Small post leavened, test's burgeon, yeah!
Blew-bridge mouthin', shaggin' door riven.
Like this pole there--totem; tote 'em, squeeze.
Slumped giraffe is mountin', growin' in the breeze.

CHORUS:
Cunning tropes make, me hope,
Smile your face--not be long.
Wet verge in a mounded mama.
Cagey dope, cunning tropes.

Awl the men-please hammer pounder,
Mine the shady strangler of blew wattle.
Dark and musky, plaited on outside,
Milky trace of groom wine, tiered drops on the pie.

CHORUS

I veer to voice; where the moanin's powered, she mauls me,
Her phagy O unwinds me, and I foam far-flung whey.
And drivin' down that load, my jet congealin'--
Drat! I could have been honed yet two ways, fresser bay.

CHORUS (2x)