A crossroads am I, where three hungry holes kneel
And if here, Traveller, you drag your worn heel
By wave or by wing, bring along a friend,
Feast to my famine, my chasms to mend
With cocks, fingers, or fists, and cunts to kiss,
So bring your toys, and don’t forget the Miss;
And if here, Traveller, you drag your worn heel
By wave or by wing, bring along a friend,
Feast to my famine, my chasms to mend
With cocks, fingers, or fists, and cunts to kiss,
So bring your toys, and don’t forget the Miss;
I’ll teach the lot of you some of my games,
Three players required (plus lube), dirty names
You’ve heard but won’t speak– no one’s taking pics
So let down your hair and learn my new tricks:
I am your Siren, I’ll sing us all three
Low down in raptures of a wine-dark sea,
Duties deserted for my company:
Family forsook, Morals an empty name,
Except as they afford the pleasures of shame–
And such I bequeath you, such is my fame:
My flesh is music, and this tuneful rest
Is your’s Eternal, in my body’s nest.
