On Bombshells
Love at the bombshell ballroom.
So long to be looking.
A woman-shaped natural phenomenon,
Journalistic standards in a black sheath dress.
Come strut your pole dancing.
New jacks, riot grrls, and Science.
This is a webcam, so let's see,
While I think about you.
Those who love Dobermans or scandal,
Or tantrums, redhead tantrums.
Help spread the pregnancy tests near the bombshells.
(See Printable Directions.)
I decided to purchase usage rights to,
One hell of a sex symbol.
Email Starr for a quick bout of everything.
Use language like the author has.
These clubs I always hit better versed.
Very quick, very risque,
The Songs of Bombshellania,
Stellar harmonies shine on all these clubs.
Downplay the causes of smutty tittle tattle, regarding
Alison Porter's performance.
Her sour, sticky-fingered duty,
I am not / Give it / Still won't zip up.
Miss Heloise translates scrolls and has big calves, so,
She revels in her tantrums,
Recieves a wide range of pole dancing classes,
As compensation for full calves.
Lola's blowhard, boozing father,
Judges dance competitions throughout the English countryside.
They would attract working single women,
But for the bald guys, shaving their heads.
Like a vintage clothing collector,
It is the pinup girls who have these boots,
A gorgeous aquamarine color,
Designed so that they don't slip off.
Scarlett Fever,
At last, she's found my crush.
Please, Bombshell, kiss this.
Bombs away!
