My lines were smooth and clean back then. A careful paint, a cunning bra, a well cut shift, I could pass and raise a tempted brow. You needed no such subterfuge, my lovely beaux. So handsome and strong, you made women weep, thinking they should have my place. We'd stroll the latest clubs, hand in hand, nodding a haughty, spare address to those favored few, then hurry home to feast
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