The Good Stuff

by Zamounde the Footstepper



SHE ASKED ME IF I LOVED HER
I LOOKED FOR AN ANSWER
I HAD TO DIG THROUGH A LOT OF NOISE....

Sex is a sickness
Grown over time
A type of infatuation flowered
Love is buried in blindness
A mad type of demon-stration
"Say you love me/
Who's your daddy/
Whose P' is this"
Lost in a moment of extraction
Slow like lava flowing
The mind's going out to sea
What' s happening to us/me

Sex is a sickness
Love is a lost gift
Wrapped up in lace and pleasured faces
Licorice edibles
"Say you love me/
Spank me harder baby/
Who's your mama"
Moans and groans
What's happening to you/me

Love don't cost a dime
Still we commit daily a crime
Fail to pay the price
Bad checks and loans
Electronic lay's
The games that people play
Cashed on that short-term feeling
Butt-naked dealings
Down the hall squealing
Heads on walls
Board cracking sounds
Phreaks in local stalls
Don't sit down or slip and fall
You might catch a dis-ease lurking
Sick men jerking
Feminine splashing
Won't paint anything appeasing

Sex is a sickness
Love is more than that action
We call satisfaction
Dose for dose
Bigger/boast
Mostly scrapin' toast
All night longers
Getting stronger
Dripping thoughts on stained sheets
Of paper
Sniffing mixed vapors of love and lust
Getting high off the latter
What will it matter
If we lost one step
We'd crawl
To get some
To get some
Seconds change
The sun awaits your return
Rotating
Gyrating
Growing
Learning
If you don't plan on carrying or raising the fact
Don't commit that child-ish act

YES I LOVE HER
IT's JUST HARD TO MAINTAIN FOCUS
SO MUCH NONSENSE SPREADING LIKE THE LOCUST


The Good Stuff by Zamounde the Footstepper

© Copyright 1999. All rights reserved. No portion of this work may be duplicated or copied without the expressed written consent of the author.


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