She wrote her name in big block letters like some good times glorious whore on a bathroom stall wall
She walked slowly towards me, her pink lipstick staining a napkin with her number
Her perfume is cheap and offends my five sense as I slowly take her in.
She smiles with cheap, heartless eyes, that speak of a deep longing for something more then the cheap thrill she's offering tonight.
Her words fall like a discordant melody, unpleasant to my ear
She orders another drink, looking an inkling of interest the ceases to cross my face
With no sign of hope in me she moves down the bar, to next possible love
My face a fast fading picture, just another of the many gone before
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