A Lady's Man
Tall and tan, velvet skin aglow
His smile, a film star's photo
Sure of himself, he walked with a swagger
A lady's man, his smooth tongue a dagger
Talented too, a budding young artist
Painting portraits, positively the tartest
Portrayals of la forma femme you ever did see
A lady's man, footloose and carefree
He'd ply them with wine, lure them with words
inviting them to his studio with clichés so absurd
But they fell for him hard, he played the game well
as he dragged them to bed for a night of lovemaking in Hell...
They awakened the next morning to an empty bed
Their fast-talking artist had conned them and fled
A lady's man to the end, footloose and carefree
His life ever-lonelier, an empty sex-spree
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