Don’t give me no roses, no cosseting care,

Just kick me around and yank on my hair,

Don’t give me no darling and dearest my heart,

Just thump on my bottom and call me your tart

Dreams of pleasure, fancy plain,

Dreaming through transcendent pain,

Submissive space and slave heart deep,

Through all my dreams I dare not sleep.

Dance a knife edge fast and slow,

Blade and flesh go tip tap toe,

Shiver quick and quiver hot,

Passion plays the slave’s gavotte.

Intensity is her refrain,

Wistful twist and tattered pain,

Crazy love and devil touch,

She does not feel a whisper much,

She needs the knife against the grain

Its humility central, the crawling whore sluts,

Dangling tits and waggling butts,

Swarming around, asses held high,

Tongues lolling out for cock and bull pie.

He’s the lord of depravity, heart cased in ice,

Dean of perversion and vicar of vice,

Bastard bar none and proud as a toad,

He uses his scepter as dildo and goad;

He’s the king of the whores, heart hard as stone,

Master of bitches, baron of bone,

He rules his dominion all crowing and squawk,

He’s the pimp of the people and cock of the walk.

How many angels can dance on the head,

Of a fat thrusting penis, all stiff, hard and red,

Philosophers differ and argue and fight,

While whores just get fucked in medieval delight