Funny how lust blurs the lines, barriers down,
when they weren't in school or hanging in town;
She looks so cute in her Friday skirt--
he wants to rip it off, make it hurt.
There's nothing like this unreal fantasy,
the pleasure, the passion--the angst-to-be;
Teacher and student--it wasn't meant to be,
Oh, oh--they're doing those dark, dark deeds.
She's coming on strong and so perverse,
lips spill over with curse after curse;
he stares her down, unimpressed,
he wants her to leave once she's dressed.
Her makeup's on and her lips are sharp,
Eyes diamond-hard, voice sickly-tart;
He looks her over--damn, he's cruel--
says she looked better back in school.
Overindulged, this petulant child,
Screaming on, she goes a little wild;
he's cool and collected, used to it--
He lays back, waits for it.
The inevitable lull, it comes at last,
he dismisses her, his lust long passed--
she's pissed and hurt, a jaded little whore,
she leaves for now but she'll be back for more.