She is a Goddess with a witch’s favor, and between her legs lies the 32nd flavor.

Many say they want her and many say they know; but it’s not until later that they falter, when they find out what they truly owe.

She may be nothing more than a fool’s dream where nothing appears to be what it seems. And I don’t really care what anybody says ’cause it’s a one-way ticket down the southbound express.

Every day she wants me to be sober. Every day she wants me to be mellow and sweet. And I know I need to turn the bitch over, but then she asks me to take her between my teeth.

She is the hustle and bustle, the moon and the moan; and she fills the chambers double, playing a game that gets both my head and soul blown.

She only shows a little and lights everything aflame; and then she leaves me to strip her bare as a sickle like a slow dance in the rain.

Where mediocrity ends is where extremity begins; and in order to ascend you have to dig from within.

And so you can wait forever and ever for the stars to align and for sunshine to break; but just keep your hands off her ’cause she’s mine—all mine—and I’m ready to give what my dreams will take.