Butter And Honey
The Prophet Obblonge
- 3:27
- 1 View
Become A Better Singer In Only 30 Days, With Easy Video Lessons!
She was late Later I would find out the delay was the negation and stringent wiping away of All the character, leaving the white school paste of pussy Laced panties, sexy cut Reeking of dryer sheet allergens That's my last fading memory of the stripper archetype, the tarot card Kisses sliding on the wax Halloween lips with all the imported personality That substrate poured into a mold can muster Somewhere more exciting, a pulp printed with sogging color defines noir in Sunday and crosswords located elsewhere Unknowable spaces in unknowable spaces When she touches me, smell of fingered smudging, sliding slightly Inks pressing nostril intense slowly This is not ubiquity, but is omnipresent as so long desired Trench coats and square jaws meet surreal and bizarre exaggerations Pointed, hairy needled ink Sunday Colors collide and combine Her fingers curl as her mouth moves, curling hungry I am her sustenance, planned and desired Finally, finality This ends but only momentarily We've been walking and it shows as the small, cozy, coveted amount of air in this roving chamber Fills with unseen but thickening parts of us Fingerprints shearing, loosing grasp Records unsheathed, slippering trebly perpendicular, arousal in the cool moistness Desiring the near boiling, almost shockingly hot moistness desired Neither of us shaved today, nor should we Arrival would only have been waylaid Come baby, let us be waylaid, and our trips circuitous and over grooves and Inclines and downward facing yogic dogs. There isn't much room in here, barely fit We more than manage but pretend to complain Noticing each other by demand Demands Mine Yours Mine Yours Ours Mine Yours Salt And character and invocation of youth practiced all this time to erupt in this performance Yours What I wanted this whole time Hair tips spilling off shoulder into my taste No conditions nor bitterness of stripped oils My hand sees your ass cheek without eyes No fingers, I don't hear you remind Saliva from mouths panting Taste of actual satisfaction Satisfies every single double and quintuple time Present, ever, right now, again until Panties feminine, doubtless, excitement recorded This wearer wanted I and his eyes secretly Opening and brazenly in confidence That which is sexy Your voice is gray, smoked, learned learning Mine Speak glossalia to my ear directly, too soft and too loud Grasping, gasping grabbing your exhalation, sucking in with desperate greed Only loosing force reluctantly Lips prehensile, fleshly Pressed, missed, uh-oh, ooh Our forces gyrate the compartment Springing on leaves Earth has given us a ride and we didn't notice and continue to never notice The environment surrounding Focusing, facing, muttering adjectives affirmatively, righteously Ours Yours Mine Nails embed, dully sharp, tracing, tensely relaxing kneading You are my bread daily Together we agree on butter and honey Doubtless Stated and exclaimed and repeated for clarity Panties feminine and owned and stolen and ingested Essence of desire folds silken Always unexpectedly boiling almost Mine until reclaimed Back and forth
Become A Better Singer In Only 30 Days, With Easy Video Lessons!
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"Butter And Honey Lyrics." Lyrics.com. STANDS4 LLC, 2024. Web. 29 Apr. 2024. <https://www.lyrics.com/lyric-lf/13283999/The+Prophet+Obblonge/Butter+And+Honey>.
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