Lean legs, tiny waist, huge tits, lies spill from her lips.
Minions gather from foreign lands, cradling the words that fall from her deceitful mouth to their chests. Practice the words of the preacher and you will get by fine.
Practice makes perfect, slave, slave, dirty whore.
Perfection was given a name and a small black dress, thrown into a pair of heels and told to flaunt her assets. God blessed this child, oh yes indeed.
She serves as eye candy to all his men and their dishonest thoughts.
Repent for your sins, sorry, sorry, repeat mistakes.
Adultery is a lie; there is no shame in appreciating god’s fine work.
The book was full of falsehoods, now she will correct them in her sultry monotones.
Such a perfect girl, a world of sin written on her body, forgotten names between her thighs.
Belief is salvation, pretend, pretend, heaven waits.
Perfection at its finest?
Is society corrupt or just saturated in fear and loathing?
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