She’s flannel over glitter, bad math in boots
Pole chrome shining like spit-shined truth
Sweat rolling slow like it’s got somewhere to be
Every spin saying "come ruin me"
Bills stick where gravity gives up
Lights too hot, room leaning drunk
I swallow hard as she bites the air
Edging me with a smoldering predator stare
She says, “don’t talk—count the bruises”
Grins like she’s keeping score
My conscience running for the exits
But I’m already pinned to the floor
I'll be your axe-murder victim
Leave me wrecked, make it ritual
Flannel sin and glitter scripture
Pheromone sweat tastes like communion wine
Amen
Amen
Amen
Kill me like an axe-murderer please
Marked up, crossed the grain
Handle me like a lumberjack, baby
Raze me like a stand of pines
Sap everywhere
No shame
no shame
Pole sweat dripping like punctuation
Every pause a provocation
She bends the night till it starts to beg
Heels digging threats into the edge
Silver stare, Borden grin
Crazy lust when the bass digs in
She drags the moment slow and mean
Like she knows exactly what I’ve seen
This ain’t love
This is friction
This is pressure, meat, and poor decisions
This is flannel sticking where it shouldn’t
and glitter migrating like a crime scene
Make me an axe-murder victim
Cut close, keep it wicked
Sweat-soaked vows, splintered rhythm
Say less—yeah, I get it
Lumber Jackie kill me with heat
Rough hands, blurred lines
Work me like a lumberjack, baby
Timber falls—when you fall on mine
She disappears in a fistful of ones
I’m still buzzing, still split in two
If that was a warning wrapped in flannel
I ignored it—just like she knew I would
