Do we look for in life an untouched flower to place on our window sill?
Or do we desire an experienced woman, who´s really been through the mill?
We´re often caught up in both of these worlds of beauty and innocent eyes,
And deep yearning smiles cloaking oft-wounded souls, which are rivers for hate and despise.

The innocent beauty, unaware of her powers, still one heart beat away from love´s thirst.
And if we´re the man in that moment of time, we must feel blessed if we are the first!
To kiss her pure lips, to touch her soft skin, to be thrilled by her breath flowing free,
Past and future forgotten, we´re young once again, the sappling embracing the tree!

To have and to hold, to shape and to mould, to protect from life´s misleading ways,
To place on a pedestal, wreathed by red roses, to worship the rest of our days!
But pedestals crumble, and roses do wilt and young girls will grow women´s feet,
And hands to turn doorknobs and eyes to look yonder and desires for new things to eat!

So we´re left there alone as they´re using our knowledge to roam and explore many lands,
To undo their laces in front of strange faces, and be held by another man´s hands.
The experienced damsel, with ghosts in her closet, and deep, burning wounds in her heart,
Will enter our door with a look in her eyes and the feeling of just where to start!

She´ll sense that we´re lonely and fill in the need, sprinkling hope on our dust covered brain.
She´s made herself useful and even desired and somehow we cannot abstain.
She says the right things, but can listen intently, being silent as water is deep.
And the things that she´s learned from the men in her past, are an intricate part of our sleep!

Then we notice the things she has done in the past, shown by wrinkles and thin greying hairs.
And from her dark hell come strong putrid smells, which make ashes of facades of flair.
But she never reveals the witch from within until after the stroke of the hour,
When we´ve long since submitted, like whimpering dogs and she has us within her firm powers!

The sweet little virgin, the devilish whore; siamese twins hand in hand.
The first one is dreams, the second one life, as all innocense sinks in the sand!
But like eyes in our heads and hands on our arms, each one is a part of us too,
As we tiptoe along on life´s soft, stony path, little chicklets and hens in our view!