| | |
| With your name I address you, but truly wish to undress you, O Joey, Like a shaken beer, my love for you fills me with joyous froth. Were desire a tea-pot I would be the tea-cosy, you the cup and my dreams the chocolate biscuit. My lolling tongue laments its lack of use. Surely there is no counter to my entreaties. Let me be the butter to your potato so that we not just melt but mash magnificently. O my beauteous bounty, I shall take up my cutlass and explore your jewels. I have rent open my feelings. I love you. |
