Torch Song Memories

That cut glass voice purring down the line
Hints at seduction and deep red wine
Sun kissed skin, the curve of her breasts
The damage she does in that little black dress

That Graceful swerve, she glides as she walks
Enchanting Hypnotic, the way that she talks
Jaded green eyes and rose bud lips
The magic she weaves with those slinky hips

Her tongue can be a whip that can cut you to shreds
Make you feel small, wish you were dead
You shared her bed but you were just a guest
Forever grateful that you've known the best

Deliciously wicked, occasionally cruel
The things she taught you couldn't learn in school
I was a Volvo when she needed a Porsche
An ember still glows in the cold cold torch.