Your eyes, black buttons of a laced see through shirt
Your lips, strass clutch bag with a 50s look and a today’s switch
Your hair, punk fantasy of immortal stars but dead after all
Your neck, field of street gaming applied in infrared control
Your hands, cruel cardigan with a dose of smooth wool
Your legs, embroidered drug in a flower bombed pool
Your back, male royal collar erased within a garment militaire
Your heart, our sex bridge revealing how's the figure of a true gent.