This lady is a whore,
Who needs and gives more,
This man is a tomboy,
Who loves to enjoy,
Tempting are the both,
Must open them every night,
The imagination spreads wide,
Where they fly as kites,
The memories are wiped out little,
The truth of the mind not rebut,
Once they are the companion of the bed,
They stay with us until our last breathe,
They need not know the love,
That we have upon them as a dove,
They want our soul, sincerely good,
We are the fools, listening to their woes.