Tart!

Tart! 

Her hair is a jungle, 

of gels, mouses and sprays, 

her face is put together, 

in the most outrageous ways. 

Her clothes all come from top shop, 

and she always looks her best, 

and when it comes to standing out, 

she sinks in with the rest. 

Her attributes are outstanding, 

she has the figure of an hour glass, 

but there's usually a defect, 

and a fiver says it's her arse. 

Her leather skirt and fishnet tights, 

promise you, you're in for a good night, 

but her back combed hair and come to bed eyes, 

just turn out to be guise. 

Her make-up covers her acne, 

so none of her spots show, 

she flashes a smile of smeared lipstick, 

and you're wondering if she'll go? 

You buy her half a lager, 

and offer her a fag, 

she carries a ton of make-up, 

in her matching hand bag. 

She takes her friend off to the loo, 

you're wondering what you're gonna do, 

her conversations hardly great, 

and you wish you'd got off with her mate. 

So there you are with this boring chick, 

no personality - you feel a right prick. 

But you offer to take home, 

just to be polite, 

and then she thinks your're thinking,

you're gonna stay the night. 

She offers you a coffee, 

and although you're bored to tears, 

you say you'll have a quick one, 

and that highlights her fears. 

You drink the coffee she's made you, 

though it tastes more like tar, 

and you think you may as well carry on, 

now you've come that far. 

Your lips embrace, 

your bodies entwine,

and your only hope is that you cum on time, 

she hears a noise, 

you sit up straight, 

she tells you, you'd beter go coz it getting late. 

Kiss her goodbye, 

wishing it was her friend you'd dated, 

get in your car, 

totally frustrated.