True lovers romance, set upon a bed of sheets,
white walls laced with nicotine treats.
A bed spread wrapped around her deceitful waist,
sitting at the edge of the bed..no momentum, no haste.
Drinking away his memory, with a still body beside her,
the only light is from the hotel sign.."ropes and spurs."
She lassos them into her grip every night, and in the morning she is gone,
with nothing but a pillow with her scent, and down goes another pawn.
You can't hate the player, you have to hate the game,
and she was just another pretty face without a name.
She stands under the street lamps at night, dancing in the pouring rain,
washing away the guilt of another heart slain.
And when she walks through the door later tonight,
you will see her shadow, from the bedroom light.
But as she turns her back, and walks with so much grace,
you will not once, see the tears trickling down her face.
Lips of an angel, deeds of a w hore,
bitter sweet love down to the very core.
And I'm not impressed, nor are you,
so tell me baby, what should we do?
