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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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