The Bagatelle That Played On In His Head

by DBLevin

So paint yourself a lovely picture
but don’t forget about the tits, sir
You’re still a twisted little prick, sir
at least that’s what they say
in the town square where the bagatelles proclaim

that hidden far beneath your whiskers
you’re still softly smiling with her
but don’t forget you’ll never miss her
although you stand so far away
your eyes upon her moonlit bodice play

Just try to taste her on your lips, sir
there’s nothing better than a kiss, sir
Now your eyes lie upon her sister
Well second best isn’t always second rate
if you haven’t got any shame
while she screams softly out your name

your mind is toying with a gift, sir
This new concoction takes the piss, sir
I’ll ask you once so softly mister
Oh please don’t take her away
I know you’ve got this silver silk brocade
and you’re planning to show her
of just what you are made

And what if she says no, sir?
Says another boy won’t let her go, sir?
Will you kill her where she lays?
just because she can’t stand to say
that her love is the one
who’s been following you ’round all day

What a surprise and still, what’s this, sir?
A knife that plays upon your lips, sir
And in your chest it comes to lay
It’s not my fault
that you took more than you may
Though she hides in the courtyard
she still must whisper my name
And I won’t lie
for that’s the least of my crimes
I can’t guarantee that she’ll one day love me
but she sure as hell won’t love you today

In the town square the bagatelles proclaim
that my wanton heart was enough to drive me insane
but when they find these damned lovers lying in their early grave
they’ll know I only got what I gave

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