Bury Her In Sky Instead

The deceased pompus lady- Who lays in check Tripped before she was ready Her billows of ego- mummed in life's demise. Is she really her- who froze testos By a mere horse stride of a walk- Trashing men's alluring gestures With a flaring condemnation glare That glided past through figures- With an ego of a she gazelle. Yes, that one, Bury her in the sky instead For in the world full of us She tip toed our desires And opted to live alone In the fantasy of our admires Like by clouds you were sired. ...