Peer Pressure

Oh Temptress, my Temptress.

You tear at my soul leaving gashes,

offering only sweet nicotine as remedy for your lashes.

But, oh how I love your addicting kiss.

Oh Temptress, my temptress.

Your pressure crushes my soul like a weak bug.

Delcate hands presses a red cup of sweet necture to my lips to chug.

Lucious lips say a hazy mind is bliss.

Oh Temptress, my Temptress.

Your world has no use for an innocent mind.

My childish, virgin deemeror left me in a bind.

A sweet tongue whispers that innocence won't be missed.

Childish bliss can't stand up to the Temptress' pressure.

My red cup could use a refressure.