These savage impulses I have long suffered
This stuffing of lustful desires
Vexations of loins,
damn be my britches.
Vexation of loins,
damn be all brass which snap open at night.
I know, I know,
say no more.
Try preaching restraint to hornets in season
or to crocks in heat, or to leaping salmon.
Liberation does not come easy
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
No comments:
Post a Comment