Madam is leaving her skirts to trussed heads
On thin bands of golden necks
Rising from steamy smoke filled darkness

Heavy fans cool puddles of sleeping
Bodies piled like bones on strips of flesh
Deep within cushioned laboratories
Ragged heads make lustful discoveries
Growing bleary eyed and penniless

Madam hears her name whispered and
Falling, she entwines with dangerous saviors
Who create rivers of passion
And drown her in the sunset of her virginity