The Prophet Obblonge - Butter And Honey

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

Written by:
Michael Mackenzie

Publisher:
Lyrics © O/B/O DistroKid

Lyrics powered by Lyric Find