Beckham For Moore,
I’ll jump overboard,
Before I give more,
Convinced he’s the whore,
Who’d rather make a chore.
Of the gift I became,
Identified him as lame,
Because he couldn’t tame,
His mane,
Against other beautiful body frames.
So I release all ties,
Free from all lies,
Not even worthy of exposure,
So I’ll let him remain disguised.