Sandy feet without shoes
She’s gotta dim smile for the camera view
A preacher’s daughter, ran away from a closed minded pew.
Needed adventure, so adventure tempts her,
What’s that in her hand, a grenade, aimed at a man-parade.
I knew she brought all the boys to the yard, but damn,
They sure did follow her far.
Curly hair in whirly wind.
Just left a girly fare in the city of sin -
Up to shenanigans and gin was back at it again.
Walking sands with a sun bloom
Balking fans stuck in a mummed tomb
She’s a flirty cleopatra, except not all bones,
And carries a smartphone.
After she’s done with your heart
You’ll be running back to mummy,
Try to call her phone,
It’ll ring caller id - dummy!
Shorts so short, pockets out
Looks like rugrats made them shorts, in two shorts!