Faux

Loved the showroom laughter
Friday night before
Count five and a little wreckless
On fur lined floor

Played the sinful rhythms
Made me want to know
Then she turned
And whispered softly
"I don't do faux"

She's like a tornado
Took me by surprise
X.O., sugar, champagne and powders
I closed my eyes

In her cross bone sweater
As she had to go
Pushed the door closed
And shouted loudly
"I don't do faux"