Little Villainelle

 

Wearing just explosives, Venus in the Shell
Station and she's sweetly asking for the till
Give the bastards hell my little Villainelle

Gentle curl of copper burning in farewell
Winks from her tiara, leaves without the bill
Wearing just explosives, Venus in the Shell

Billows golden flame it silences the yell
Dust all glitters falling everything is still
Give the bastards hell my little Villainelle

Burning what they're giving, stealing what they sell
Silver plumed exhaust, it burns across the hill
Wearing just explosives, Venus in the Shell

Where the smoke will rise no thinker can foretell
Frightened of all poems, they suppress the thrill
Give the bastards hell my little Villainelle

Prop the exit open, disconnect the bell
Give her what she wants and no excuse to kill
Wearing just explosives, Venus in the Shell
Give the bastards hell my little Villainelle

 

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© 1996-2006
Dominique Fitzpatrick-O'Dinn
Spineless Books