a study toward sonnet #422 by FisherKingKQJ
She's nauseating - I think I'm going to die,
She seems to be the impeccable girl,
She wears platforms, her cleavage high,
And a microskirt - but it makes my lip curl!
This is the tale of my desirous pearl,
How she was unapproachable and aloof,
How she would her cold biography unfurl,
How she gushed my looks with over proof.
She was a perfect china doll and goof,
And not a sympathetic open ear,
So pretend blase I could've hit the roof,
And not a pal for tickles, that was clear.
She worried dead a fumbled pick up line,
Long after I politely said it was just fine.
(Chorus)
She worried dead a fumbled pick up line.
She worried dead a fumbled pick up feint.
She worried dead a fumbled pick up rule.
[Proof of concept for interactive movies.]