If frisy hair was a metaphor
|
for festival time
|
then this woman is a goddess
|
of that festival shrine, met her
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- at a jam
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in that garden of sorts
|
I must confess god bless
|
some impure thoughts
|
"show us the money"
|
was the call of the night
|
but no money could have bought
|
even a piece of her pride, there might
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have been a sea of people
|
I don't know, because
|
all I could see
|
was how this woman she glowed so
|
|
-Aeh it's a pleasure to meet you
|
ya look like one incredible creature
|
wanna treat you fine
|
lets dance and grind
|
get so funk-inflicted it's a crime
|
you're divine you're sublime
|
and well you blow my mind
|
|
She caterpillar so good
|
that all the greeks go "killa"
|
break and enter take ya like a glass of milk
|
then "spill ya"
|
saw her coming what a scene
|
what I mean is
|
she got that sex coffee beam
|
but she tastes like vanilla
|
well alright she ignite
|
when we hit the floor
|
like the vroom on a V8 super commodore
|
now if it makes a good story
|
well it's just worthwhile
|
with her's like dealing stories
|
in that sprinkla style and so
|
|
-Aeh it's a pleasure to meet you
|
ya look like one incredible creature
|
wanna treat you fine
|
lets dance and grind
|
get so funk-inflicted it's a crime
|
you're divine you're sublime
|
and well you blow my mind
|
|
-----------------
|
Sly
|
| The Cat Empire |
