lyrical muscle

I'm driving through a drive thru,and on the screen its me and you,feeding viewers sweet tooth,giving cavities that need to be removed,but if they only knew this sugars not pure its been refined and removed,not near as good for you when you know the hidden ingredients issued,about as real as a cartoon,when digested hard to pass through,because nothing real fool,fool in love with symbol of love,symbol of two,when you don't even know the symbol of you,like hot soup you need ice cubes of truth,to bring you to a cool,or a blow whatever works for you,as long as you don't get it confused,cause an act for two,doesn't mean me plus you,sorry to be the witch on the broom,but who's gonna tell you,other the one use to use,or the movies that like the news exaggerate the truth,leading to a search party crew,looking for a tall dark and handsome in a suit,to bring back that adrenaline boost,instead look at married couples separate rooms,bachelors to grooms,from baby news,or held hands with wandering eyes on the loose,aiming right at you,while she's unaware to his cues,because she daydreaming about her other mans moves,and you think what harm can you do,if you get in the middle of the two,he could be the one with the missing Cinderella shoe,so you look back to,and you get chewed and spit back like unwanted food,duck duck goose sorry you loose to the last rope that became a noose tight around your throat turning you blue to match your hearts hue,and as you start slipping you wake up from loves voodoo and realize all you ever need was you..to bad it wasn't more soon


In the middle of two, or should I say two, of us, where is the trust, me thrust you, equals you and me in bed at two, lose that skirt, loosen that dress, I know you want me, every inch, don’t be green, don’t be a Grinch, love making is such as cinch, I love love making love while our love is debating on whether or not the both of us should be in love, but I still have memories of us resembling a couple a couple of days shortly after our love took a tumble, rumble in the love making jungle has mixed and mangled our relationship into shambles, but we try to tackle the demons resting in our tabernacle, like a bumble bee it stings until from head to feet, instead of retreat, waving the white flag of defeat, I didn’t leave it alone I was wondering lost in lovers street, where nobody is here but me, and a couple of lost souls headed to suicide lane, if I was superman you were Louis lane, filled your lips with kryptonite when we kissed at the back of my Pontiac on lover’s lane, but who is to blame, when both of us had lust in our veins, mindless mind games of nothing less than sexual, see that’s why I can’t get over you, your smooth body was so sexy, so friendly, so cunning, resembles nothing but tasty, if you were a vegetable I would suck the carrots out of you, sorry to be mean that was unintentional, lustful intentions, I know they weren’t intentional, looking in the mirror and seeing a mirror image of our own genitals, so its no surprise that we think of sex all the time, all the time, yes all the time, in school, in class, during math, on the bus, on the train, can’t even spell my name without spelling cunt, or cum, maybe I should consider dating a nun, annunciate every word in vocabulary and you’ll see a young man in the library getting a hard on while reading the dictionary, playing with words, hoping on metaphors, spitting out witty similies that put smiles on your white bread cheeks…