Your body is like fruity promised land,
A plum I must deprive of precious stone.
In my mouth I can taste a pinch of sand,
And you must make me come to juicy frown.
The bed has pranced at our lustful command,
I slowly came into your head and read
What tricks appeal to you, what kind of things
I shall perform to have your senses fed.
And though the pillows stay down and appear
Unmoved by what we pursue, we are kings.
And then we find there’s no longer despair
No grief, no misery, no lust, decay.
We lie, innocent babies, pure and bare.
The world smiles at us while drifting away.