All of your insistent ways, needy to whisper and say it but my eyes have turned, earned n trickled vehemently toward
Another red-ribboned lady. And this time she’ll stay the distance – by the break of my quantifiably non-analytical line

We wine n gather real-life compartmentalised rhyme, it’s just silly besides this, really, don’tcha simply think? And she likes the acoustic sound of my voice, no more peripherally speaking anointment necessary. You were nothin’ but motherf*ckin’ contrary to pretty, penny-lent belief, thieving it all away from yourselves … more than anyone else, really.

I’ve grown right up, movin’ along with these tremendously expressive times … no rhythm no rhyme no crime about this dishevelled place anymore, touch the motherf*ckin’ taste which strips your over-elongated, heavy-breathing hips – lips twist and he kisses your mind back to adolescently congruent l-i-f-e.

You wish … …

First two shows and I close her nose with the beat of my adulthood lips, sipped, sipped… still sippin’
Still trippin’ over all of this –

Soliloquy noise. Perfectly s-i-l-e-n-t so it seems to be
Only we’re going in circles no-more than the next great lady misbehaving n beautifully, promiscuously interested in the under-investment of lifetime – strife ain’t got nothin’ upon us baby features

She’s a wrap-around creature with no real creation and this is exactly how you play her at her own game – vent-triloquist fingers reaching inner-within She asked me these questions like she fell asleep in the sixties and just woke herself UP again…

Pretty, pretty prey-pret.end little lady // seems to be, you intruded upon my rudeness
All noise and never my real nature.

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