Hear the rough boys raise their voices -
tempestuous, incestuous, intense and alive.
Sounds like angels, dipped in honey.
Feels like electric current and midnight soul kisses.
Slip-shod and sanctified. Twirling, whirling, spanked and crying.
I need more than the obvious.
Give me shadow, shade and texture. Add more grey to the mixture.
I'll cling as tight as your aura - and then I'll fall to pieces.
Rattled, tattered, scattered - in a world that's outgrown me.
Ah, but when my motor's revving - I feel so clever.
I want to break down and give in.
And kiss the perfumed ass of sin.
And grab the straining horn of passion.
And be the agent of disaster.
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
No comments:
Post a Comment