It’s about time we celebrate

Use our Physical energy to procreate.

As I delegate our chores

So much for us to explore

But now we must take the floor

No longer bore

Each other.

Nervously I stutter

Due to the flutter

Creating this passionate clutter

I am the mother

Of the land he buries

His bone and it’s scary

Barbarian and a Fairy

Spiritually we marry each other

Divinely Guided

Smooth on like butter

Mind always in the gutter.

So tell me sir,

Do you have time?

So I can dissect your mind

Whine during a little of your time

Sip some red wine

I mean, only if that’s fine with you?

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