whose face was ten times three,
her arms doubled her belly,
her boobies just nineteen,
her hands were eighty something,
her neck looked fifty-six,
her high knee like a baby's,
her legs tripled her lips,
her cute nose was a wonder,
her mouth full of false teeth.
A miracle of surgery,
A miracle of surgery,
or magic, sorcery?
A consequence of gens,
a happy life or creams?
A life deal with a demon
or simple mystery?
Three women in just one,
Three women in just one,
a monstrous trinity!
Noah's grandpa seemed much younger,
oh, Lord,
more than nine hundred!
How old you think she is...?
By night, clothes off,
How old you think she is...?
in twilight,
that is what I could see:
her elbows were hanging
- ¡no mercy, gravity! -,
ten twisted toes appeared
- rheumatic prosody -,
her lenses left her pupils
- she couldn´t glimpse her tits -,
her blonde hair hid loose ears
- no matter how long rings -,
her fingers crossed while praying
- why face my destiny? -,
a bended back and ... tears
refreshing her pale cheeks.
Souls are not made of plastic.
Souls are not made of plastic.
The mirage of the image
by moon light was all gone.
Such fragile sexiness
has ended dead in bed.
That's her, that's hers!
That's her, that's hers!
The flesh under the doll.
Finally she's human, real.
The rest is just all fake!
More in Dulcina's garden: http://dulcinasgarden.blogspot.com.es/
