This muse is a babe in a satin sheath dress
Pinned with diamonds borrowed from the night sky
Silky voice threads a song through your ears
Come dance with a lady tonight.
Her calling card just says "midnight, candle, and oil"
Lipstick is come-fuck-me red.
This muse is a Chicago gang whore
And her price is always in flesh.
Rhymes over reason Rhythm under pulse
Don't even think of escaping her mood.
Dance with her Pay heed to her
This muse is a babe in a satin sheath dress.
5/10/98 Arwen Nighstar
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