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All of these pseudo spiritual flows that drop & raise hands in your praise flaunting dainty fingerlings interlaced in my pocket; I like the way she smells when she’s sweating, she’s already had plenty of other poems written about her 

I don’t need no money give me scotch or sake

Down for the mission down until I make you lose your breath

Space cowboy suit for the ra ra riot

Ah fuck going out I’m going to your place instead

I want to run around in the sun until evening

& howl at the moon come back with you to bed

I rev my motor mouth like an automatic

But don’t worry baby I’ve said only what I’ve meant

I hunt to kill

Meat eater

Addicted to the thrill


Not afraid of sin

Don’t be cross

Your bodies heaven


You’re here again

Under my spell

You twist and we bend


No need to think it through

Trust your instinct

Do what you do

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