These words they come from the heart, from the heart that beats in you.
They are merely words of art, not the whole f**ing truth
I will be a loving devotee, and you can be the hungry beast I feed.
A man like me if an infidel, would much prefer your sister…
Than spend his time a fraternizing with another mister.
What luck to have struck upon some basic beauty.
It is reprehensible to behold, And downright unholy
What struck me as beauty you now defend with your license.
This is and unreachable peach, I don't uphold a pretense.
What are days and weeks and months and years, if not the counts of aging?
So while the crowds are gone and the floor is clear
Let's dance while to our graves we're racing.
With my son and my wife, there is a life yet to have been.
For you to take it would be obscene.