Looking up, I see a star
In heaven (well, in B _ _ _ _ _ _ Bar);
Like the Sistine Chapel ceiling,
(Although the view is more revealing)
It gives my craning neck a jar!
Upstairs the view is wunderbar
Of this Siamese object d’art,
Except that now my head is reeling -
Looking up
Her skirt - and down her bra.
I’d like to plunge my scimitar
Into her scabbard so appealing,
And watch her writhing; hear her squealing -
Yes, since I came in here things are
Looking up.
© Bangkok Byron, 2007. All rights reserved by the author.

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