“The Siren” by Jay Burnham
The cheap tick of my wristwatch
And the haze of cigarette smoke.
Fortunes won and manipulated luck,
My yearning eyes find you, doll
Cross the room and kill every man
You fail to notice. They see you,
As if tonight you would not be mine
Come a little closer. That hair,
Those legs, the way you smoke.
That red dress could fetch any sap
But you were my own glamorous ruin
Adore me, in the taxi, on the stoop
A deadly little woman in my bed,
Mine before I knew it. Bitch.
You roll over and whisper of love
And tell me the predicament
Find the girl, simple and easy
And yet I now clutch to life
Blood pours from the bullet hole
And you tell me I was part of the plan.
So now go on, take your treasure
You man-eater, you siren, you devil
And though I’m dying, you kiss me.
I’m your sap one hundred times over.
