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Gray

I see you in amongst the crowd,
The party's life and soul,
And it looks for all the world
As if you've found your role:
The nucleus of all the fuss,
The centre of the shoal.

Not anger's blaze nor hatred's glare
Can match your lipstick's red,
As if you'd slain a thousand men
And kissed them as they bled,
And your white cheek, so pure and bleak,
Is paler than the dead.

And all the charitable pins
Which set your chest apart,
Showing condescending pity
For pets and kids and art,
You know as I how well they lie;
They're make-up for your heart.

And all your endless talk and prattle,
Those self-serving things you say,
Have all the truth and promise
Of a kiss from Mr. Gray,
And all the while behind your smile
Your beauty slips away.

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