The Siren

by Shelley Smith

A slice of heaven she delivers,
Just enough to make you quiver;
Tease you, please you, all night long
She sings to you her siren's song.

Hold her tight, hold her tonight,
Never let her slip from sight.
She knows what it is you like,
Your little angel of the night.

Bound in love, bound in desire,
She will take you higher and higher;
Steal your heart, steal your soul,
and leave your body icy cold.

You wanted just a night of pleasure,
But it's your heart that she does treasure.
She rips it from your body cold,
To add to all the others she's stole.

Not a word of sorrow spoken,
To her your heart is just a token.
She smiles sweet with heart in hand,
And utters the words, 'catch me if you can...'

Number eight is what you are,
Your pictures tacked on the department wall.
They hunt this siren night and day,
She eludes them all in every way.

She revels in the paper she reads,
How wicked, cunning and evil her deeds.
The night was long, no more to roam,
As she walks in the door she says, 'Honey, I'm home...'

Roses are red, violets are blue,
Do you really know
Who's sleeping with you...?