Dear beloved Chi Cha
this ode is for you
if your lounge was music
it would be a Bachian fugue
many a lady whore
have i lured
to the glow of your blood red boudoir
appletini-stained sofas
hookah smoke swirled above us
drinks that hurt my bank account
greasy doorman checks us out
through it all you stayed my place
where i took my ladywhores for dates
staff smiled knowingly at my whore parade
and ran bets which dates i laid
Chi Cha you set the mood right
pussy opened up in your amber light
i gave you much in drink money
and you paid me back in liquored honeys
but then you went and fucked it up
you thought you weren’t douche enough
so you had people wait in a line
when clearly no one was inside
this policy is cheese
when it’s in NYC
but here in DC
it’ll kill your revenue stream
and so i’ve noticed lately
not many patrons i see
here’s a suggestion from me
toss the pseudo-Victorian love seats
and add a Wii.
[crypto-donation-box]
