Placenta

If I could rim you with my soul, I would
100 breakneck looks, the morning, wood
If I could sit my shape on your visage
Break record, record deal, ba-boom:
I’d penetrate your entourage.
Dreaming of a new platoon
Sideburns burnt, the syrens koon
Always running with the tide
Clothes too loose, my hand too tight
Clothes to lose, adamant knight
— Hold my aura whilst I fight
Fever, fever in the night
1,000 sweats won’t make it right
I’ll never get to reabsorb you
Or hold myself around you
Bind you and enclose you
Feed you and sustain you
Make you wet
I guess I’ll never be for you
Nor will you ever be for me
Placenta.