She did look around, but she couldn’t find no gentlemen. Maybe it was the city she lived in, or how she lived in the city.
Naiveté surrounds her consciousness Just freed into the world of manliness No nun, no skirt, no veil She’s told: any bad egg, try to curtail
She wore curiosity like a jewelry Bailed out to a world of delusory
Million miles away from domicile After promises of being responsible
Finally time to let her heart to dance Like a mills and boom romance She’d find and fall for one man Who’d stand throughout her life span
Man number one Hulala! What a stud she won Bright smile, set her heart on heels With every sunrise, looked like a damn meal But then he flips; gets a spleen and hits Empty bottles of aspirin, she couldn’t commit
Man number two This one seemed like a taboo Wonderful and sweet, too good to be true Great sparks he induced, her beliefs and hope renewed Then wrong hair strands, wrong lipstick smudge: wrong aura Months passed and it fell like Gomorrah
Man number three Called himself Henri She could see a great deal of maturity Nothing like the others, who had no morality This one was pure, this one was true But then something wasn’t right, the love he needed never grew
She craved for that flutter The heat that’ll make her heart melt like butter Guess she exhausted the flame with the doofus Now with Henri her love seemed devious Better to let him go In the right time, her heart would glow.