Play - Theatre Of Tragedy

She fills the rich kitsch niche where she sits

Making chit-chat, this and that, from the bits

Consumed, perfumed, detracts the room despite

Glowing, knowing she can head for the limelight

She’s too rich for her men

She won’t stay, what a shame

A shame

She won’t fit in his world

She exists for the game

A shame

Tricky repertoire

Words flying 'round

Picky seminar

Bound to be drowned in the sound

Sticky shirt and tie

Play 'Bottoms Up' in the bar

Icky, fly guy — why

She’s nastier by far

It’s appeasing how she wanna flaunt her fur

His mind’s but a blur

He’s derailing from his train of thought

Doing not what he ought and was taught

He’s trying to flick quick, but she waged the pages stick

Someone must have gone click, click, click, click

Can’t see what’s new, he doesn’t have a clue

Of what to do with the woman he thought that he knew

She’s too rich for her men

She won’t stay, what a shame

A shame

She won’t fit in his world

She exists for the game

A shame