There is a sombre sound when mushrooms are concealed by mists in the English forest.
We need to protect ourselves from the spirits of the ages, where accusations echo around cosmological séances.
Can we please just engage in explicit intercourses and stop wasting time?
Let us stand upon the altar and exchange ancient mysteries where the black goat dances along smoky corridors of pagan castles.
Your ****** sword has pierced my heart, oh mistress of sexually explicit ceremonies.
I love your feminism, yet offer caution against your blatant assertions.
But please do not misunderstand me, oh mistress of the ages.