Chiseled, a novice awakes as She coos
Chasing the stifling heat of the noose.
Jonesin' for motion, commotion, respite
From the hot horrid hives that bite without hype.

Balking at the stalking of the buggy tribal stroking
She gels, she smells, she calls out for those ancient spells
That glue all in stringent need, that toke all in disbelief.
Mooning the glass ceiling, without apparent feeling
and balancing on her tippy toes - no remorse and no repose.