The night is her time to shine
and flirt with danger, flirt with love
but never let it into her life
for more than just a fleeting moment.

She thrives on excitement
and the sensuous heat of the night,
she craves for dancefloors
and groping hands on her behind,
for she'll encourage his actions
though they're no more than lust,
and return dirty glances,
and caress with sweltering eyes.

She's all woman when in their arms,
so she'll invite with her bosom
and lead the way with those hips
through the swilring bodies
wrapped in the elixir of pounding music.

Through the intoxicating night
to the dreaded morning,
she'll stop at nothing, she'll yearn for flesh,
and she'llk ride the stars through the heavens.

But the breaking dawn finds her alone
in a desert bed, in a sea of loneliness
with not even a single soul, for she'd lost count,
to worship her mind and body alike.

And she'll cry and weep,
she'll think herself a failure......
but then she'll wait in tensiuon for tonight's game.
She'll wait for those artificial pleasures
from men who think her nothing more
than a downright cheap but pretty whore.