The Player's Song

(Author's note- The narrator for this poem is a fictional character, and does not represent my actual views on these matters. But I think we've all run into someone like this at some point...) Heartbreaker, yeah I’m the one, make your mind race with the strength of my gun, heartbreaker, yeah I’m the man, love you so hard the next day you can’t stand. You know what you want from me, at the club I can plainly see, your eyes catch my model looks, when you’re hot as me you always got a hook. I make six figures see, and you want that security, what do I care if you’re a six, doesn’t matter much when you’re wrapped ’round my d—k. Heartbreaker, yeah I’m the one, make your soul quake with the strength of my gun, heartbreaker, let’s go again, give you one night, you can sleep with a ten. Next you try to call again, think you can land the better man, as if your standard is raised, but I don’t want rings, I just wanted some play. You will not believe it’s true, that I want nothing more from you, you’ll think you can land my kind, and now you’re much ‘too good’ for regular guys. Heartbreaker, yeah I’m the one, make your pulse pound with the strength of my gun, heartbreaker, this soon will end, then you’ll be let down by all other men. You’ll think you deserve what’s great, and you’ll wait ’till it’s much too late to get even beta cucks, overrate yourself and you’ll be truly f-cked.’ Even if I ever wed, won’t be you, a hot one instead, but it’s always about the hunt, never stop looking for hot and ready…fun. Heartbreaker, yeah I’m the one, make you pine hard for the strength of my gun, heartbreaker, you’ll understand that dancing with me leaves you nothing but damned.