She’s cold to the touch when her lights her off
But looks so neat & mean
Some call her fast, some call her crass others a chromed sex machine.
She has no limbs or eyes or ears
But for a petite little thing all made from casts
She takes on her world and roars like monsters
That appeared once in our past.
To own her is to love her
To cherish & caress
Without care she’ll deny you your soul
She loves you to straddle her
Back covered with leather
Ride like to hell hearts pumping together
Only glancing into your past
Through an image such as glass
Attached then two become one.
She’s an eater of cars
This woman of ours
Who only wants you to Rock’n’Roll…
*Dedicated to James Marshall Black
© Copywrite Stephen Luff 2009
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