Entering this dark jungle; an abyss where its core should have been. Its animals let out a cry, their eyes closed, but they've been to the slaughterhouse before. A dirty love, found by many a dirty mate. But I find its more than petty bestiality. I'll never know if we love each other. Those eyes could mean hate.
Twisting in the scent, I long for your black eyes. Twisting in the scent, your maw in my mouth.
They say they never desert you, but it could go either way. Are men always the obscene, or is the beast also to blame? A whelp, a whine, who is getting the satisfaction? Is it anymore than animal attraction? Or does it mean something?
Twisting in the scent, I long for your black eyes. Twisting in the scent, your maw in my mouth.
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