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It's about A Queen, of taboo and the klink of her heels. You'll Figure it out pretty soon. (tis bout' a hooker's short life.)

Submitted:Aug 25, 2011    Reads: 15    Comments: 1    Likes: 0   

Klink, klink, Where are you going? Klink, klink. A Sniff of taboo is on the wind. Klink, klink. A flash of guilt hints why she is there. Klink, klink. Alone in the wind she earns her fair. Klink, klink. A face painted of false beauty. Klink, klink. A poker face shown to the driver. Klink, klink. But her stone cold eyes show she is no queen, but a peasent lurking for forgiveness. Klink, klink. She slides into a carriage of hell. Klink, klink. When will we see the cement queen again? Klink goes her heel, tap goes her blood. A grave for our Queen? A Grave for her sorrow, none but cement greets our Queen.


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