Push, quiet cedar

look, lowly grass

Earth moving tender

and sun comes in brass

Blue smoke comes, a whisper

Dressed in river foam

Love escapes over-thinkers,

full of love we are free to roam

So tits out ladies,

lips out ladies,

we will love and fuse

and be our own muse

Let man eat,

neither our lips

Feast his own meat

We shall love while he rips.


©PseudoBop 2017 All rights reserved.

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