Come hither to my lap.
My throne's a better place,
To sound the beat I hear you tap.
I fain would welcome you amongst,
The ranks of rabid rats,
But I've been told to leave you to your world,
Atop the pedestal you grasp.
Over all - that's where you stand,
You and Venus, hand-in-hand,
A queen amongst the race of man;
A royal imp amongst the damned!
Proud to have had you, that I am,
Asleep in my arms - entranced in a scam.
Whilst your docile corpse stays ever static,
Its' programmed mind molds much like plastic,
And languid muscles grow elastic,
You are beautiful,
And I'm sarcastic.