(So beautiful, but so deadly
I don't know what's compelling me
Drawn by the cry of the sirens melody)


Their using sorcery to torture me
It's like their dousing me in oil then they torch my feet
Open flame where soul roasting slowly
But now its burning to hot to control the heat

...Despite the metaphor
I'm feelin' colder than the holdin's where they store the beef
Their Cry Is ill advised for the weak
Its beginning now to mental toll on me

They're beauty is just so elite
I'm sure they know I'm so intrigued
Their in the soul biting industry
And all got quotas to report on quarterly

I admit a bit of hyperbole
Got to quit with the spittin' bitter poetry
Then maybe they'll notice that's there's more to me
Then these dudes trying to court them cordially

Please don't take this for misogyny
You'd amazed by the range that your charm can reach
Only peevish cause it works on me
But I would never blame you for a thing