Emaciated waste of a supermodel queen
on a pillar where statues stood
so much a failure at everything
Everything but looking good
Save it for the judge
the sentence is light
Cursed with a Midas Touch
Blinded by your own golden sight
Temper, temper little jewel
Tempt the fates more than once
powerless as they crumble your pedestal
Settle for second best
It's always been your way
you're just like the rest —
what's good for tomorrow isn't fun today.
They speak of a match made in heaven
guided by powers of yet we to learn
Like a sports car are you so driven
Let's not forget that matches will burn
Settle into that worn-out groove
Aching with your confidence
Never thought you'd lose
Never picked up on all the hints
Never thought you'd lose. . . .
1998 © Dave Cavill