Few realise how naughty your craft truly is.
Haughty hands and fingers work to latch,
To attach, to bend and squeeze
Taught pieces of lustre into perfection
And under heat turn soft silver slivers
Into hard and shiny erections.

With droplets of sweat and skin no colder,
You grow bolder and bolder as you solder
and with great passion you fashion
Orgiastic works of art to lash with sash on.

Your craft and creation brings pleasure and elation
To those, whose lives and skin they touch.
And as such, bird lady, las combinacionados
And all other visitors of yours can’t express
With words their relief.
Only moans can disclose as much.

When the climax is finally felt,
And heart and mind in harmony have dealt
The hard, the firm, the silver to its new owner
Their soul, once hard, grows soft once more,
They smile, they cower, and for more implore.

This atelier, or, as some would say, this den of sin
Restrains the public knowledge, feigns innocence
And keeps the visceral obsession hidden within.