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.