I assumed there is poetry
In death and the wilting of flowers
In the setting of the sun
In a life with or without words to describe

I assume there is art
Not just in the portraits we burn
But in the dark and hollow nights
Determined to find beauty in the black and grey and white.

I assume there too is music
In the pouring of clouds
In footsteps
In the abandoned and lost

Men have gone and come crazy for a lass
Of age under the spell of witch to kiss
Between the black and grayer greater mass

Stuck to pick the cotton joint to jazz
It up for size inside agenda cis
Men have gone and come crazy for a lass

Smoking clad in sweats hung off the ***
Broken like a slave held to the promise
Between the black and grayer greater mass

Fresh melons flatly fetch from ghetto grass
Adored without a walk up to the hizz
Men have gone and come crazy for a lass

Figured like a boy with hair to harass
So yanks to flirt with knee grow what it is
Between the black and grayer greater mass

Crops up the legal tender dark as brass
Refined in fire out to finally fizz
Men have gone and come crazy for a lass
Between the black and grayer greater mass

the things i want to do to you
drive me mad
with insatiable lust,
your allure is too much,
but if that wasn't enough
i think i'm falling for you