Smoke investigates,
a deep inky delight.
You who belly dance and surf,
You who belly dance and surf,
check behind every mountain.
If I free her, doom obsessed,
your Aryan god will balance music.
A simple angelic sound of home.
A simple angelic sound of home.
against perfect sanity to sleep in sculpture.
Mom heard us hustling,
she gave us that red passion.
You and I poured tea for the studio.
You and I poured tea for the studio.
It relates to me how dirty canvases follow
a glorious sanguine end.
a glorious sanguine end.
Friday, more guilt and guile.
I smoked at a secret live romance.
"Forget your model husband!"
Need we end this dazzle?
I thought we stood as good work,
shared our money to sculpt.
An innocent experiment was felt,
The water gave us
psychedelic angel paint.
You cared for our fiery cure.
You cared for our fiery cure.
Imagine clean sex,
fast romance as a drug,
Healed by intimacy,
fast romance as a drug,
Healed by intimacy,
It was all about the bed.
