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