Theatre Of Tragedy - Play

~ 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.