Heed to my warning before you move out

and don’t cross your guns with her quick trigger mouth

she’s the infamous myth of the Indian South

She’s got game playing, slick talking, dual-barreled lips

revolving, revolver, lube moistened hips

she’s the 38-Special of LSD trips

She stays straight locked and loaded and ready to shoot

don’t be fooled by those butterfly, sweet cowboy boots

while you’re checking her rack she’ll be snagging the loot

Her mouth’s an assassin, an agent of change

a complete assault rifle for assholes in range

to those with the gold but whose riches are shame

for them this sweet lady will never be tame

but only take aim

you’re her sport –

that’s her game


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