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Her fruit was ripe, I bit Her fruit was ripe, I bit I'm nothing more than a humble mongrel whipped cast, rash and unabashed Her fruit was ripe, I bit Her fruit was ripe, I bit pungent juice wept from the bruise where the skin was sluice and slobbered on though the meat was fleshy and sweet she purred while I grrred I die every day, to live every night under the industry of her want for me in our fusty foundry please no ceremony, I want she, I want she, no matrimony My fruit was ripe, she bit My fruit was ripe, she bit in her belly lay a pip a'brooding in the oozing My fruit was ripe, she bit My fruit was ripe, she bit huffing and puffing on the mattress stuffing upon the bunk a fervent funk in my butcher's hands her soft fruit tendered. She never pretended... she purred while I grrred I die every day, to live every night under the industry of her want for me in our fusty foundry please no ceremony, I want she for laundry, I want she so I'm not lonely I want she, I want she, not matrimony |
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