I am a high-class Charlestonian.
Reside in a mansion right down the street,
you know the name, Trad House.
Famous in all its history, my priceless humble abode.
My neighbors are that famous family from that one t.v. show.

People around me fail to understand
I have a hard life. I have to drive,
down meeting street and walk,
Some agonizing blocks
designer shoes can’t last in this dirty street.
It takes a whole five minutes for my AC
to push the cool breeze across my face, OMG.
As I cram food in my perfect polished mouth.
I always have to look perfect, smell perfect, and feel perfect.

I stare at my glowing computer screen,
Can only write what I know.
Southern charm and style.
Charleston has raised me.
Beaches, dresses, parties, and Starbucks.
I use my jeweled body and shiny lips to persuade and tempt.

My girl friend agrees with my schemes.
We are the same, we know the same, we live the same.
like a two for the price of one special, we are a package
twins in mind, body, and soul.
Have you not seen me?
Every day you see me.