Uta

She looks upon nought's, like prayers to a priest, a levy on troubles brought, the way she drinks wine, doesn't trouble her the least, to look for other signs, why pretend at loving thoughts, if everything's so free, who objects to being bought, inflated by her own design, depends on how she sleeps, or seeks to undulate why, justice is always sought, when the world weeps, a flame that's always wrought, knows it cannot be bought, and certainly isn't cheap, shopping trips to New York, disguise her release.