�
My loss of words
This is your sole
opportunity
If you were a knife
You would spread thinly like
butter
That melts into your voice
All over the floor
�
A slippery handshake
Warms right into my veins
While the pulse builds down
Into my back and my feet
Giving righteous energy
To turn and lose my way
�
How could you, handsome sir?
How can I think straight?
While you chase my behind
All over the place
Shaking my senses with your
face
�
You enjoy this too much
You won�t go away
Do I enjoy this too much?
I have nothing to say.
�
-Copyright �2000�K.�Monge'
�
