Swiping itches Sticky fingers Yields those smells we love To touch it, thrills You mean business Steady shucking, Harvests tingles starting from these toes **** junk, to the nostrils Smells like rock ‘n roll
Fuzzy nothings Sweeping softness Inside wet with joy Excited aces, jack of clovers Licks the spades in throes Something wilder Up above us Shivers chilled with awe Insight betwixt our interstices This mouth cleaving chills below
Always ready Never settling Redolent God-like muse This music is something To be messed with Together we watch our show