Pretty little mess

She’s got that pretty plastic house

To match her pretty plastic chest

And a man who spends my years wages

On a pretty tight black dress

So he can rip it off her

And tie her to his desk

And with blunt tools he moulds her

To make her look her best

And she’s happy sitting pretty

In her pretty broken dress

Blissful in her misery

Pretty little mess

And everything’s pretty perfect

Until you ask her why

She’s pouring pills in vodka

Asking God to die

Silly pretty girl

You’ve made a silly little mess

You spilt some of your cocktail

On your pretty little dress

And now your pretty husband

He’s thirsty don’t you think

So how about you share

Some of your pretty little drink


1 Comment

  1. Love the juxtaposition of the jaunty rhyme scheme with the subject matter.
    Someone could set this to music.

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