I used to live without a roof over my head

hey my girl

why do you draw

the golden moon into your scoop

to pour it

whom are you wearing mouring for

My mother said : that's right. After the remains of your father had been exhumed for permanent burial, he filed petitions to a great number of authorities.

its tone is clear like the sounds of a flying flamingo

and dark like stream curents tumbling in mid-course 

my body's like a jackfruit on the tree

the skin is rough-the pulp is nice and thick

if you love me, drive into it your plug 

don't fondle it or sap will stain your hand