Let's make love for seven hours
While we dry our towels in the sun
Stop speaking wisdom
And ruin yourself in this love
Come touch the ground of nakedness
We are blessed to speak of the Sun
She runs into your arms like a tiger
She is herself and that is her charm
I am alarmed and waiting
She is ready for my love
Grief is a battle
And we are never done
Realizing our infinity
So speak not of this embrace
We are not something you can follow
And we are not something to be chased
We are all drunken images
Rotating like a record player
The amount of wisdom you embody
Is directly proportionate to your pain