tinted lips, dangerous hips, and a will that would kill us all, she walks in fire, fuels our desire and aids our already eminent fall. What shall we do, where shall we go? there is no place she can't follow, seduction will come, she will not leave even one, and our souls she shall surely swallow. They don't care, they trace her steps everywhere, just for a touch, just for a pat, they will sell out their families for something as small as that.
Its not her choice, its her profession, she cries every night during her lack luster confession, she kisses them all, and aids them to fall, but inside she is already fallen. There is no spark, there is no love, inside her mind, the crows have overcome the doves, she doesn't know why, she doesn't know how, but she knows she has to get out of all of this, she has to do it know.
So she cleans off her lips, and straightens out her hips, and walks into the ally that serves as her gallery for the passionless art she is forced to display, she goes up to the man, who wants her to put her money in his hand, and gives him a kiss he wont soon forget. He takes a fall, just like them all, and he lays still as can be, she closes his eyes, then looks at the skies, knowing doves will soon appear where crows would once be.