And the scalp inside is a scalp of a crazy
I wake up, I am lying peacefully
I seek pleasure, I seek the nerves under your skin
Over the skin of silk are scars
I would measure the success of a night by the way, by the way I
The mole on the belly of an exquisite whore
Over the columns that nestled the P.A.
And a sleepy Comanche lies beneath this netting of skin
With flat metallic circles which dazzled and flashed
Like a, like a log of Helen, is my pleasure
A stage is like each bolt of wood
I had an ornamental veil, I can't bear to use it
With a skirt of green net sewed over
He spared the child and spoiled the rod
But now that my hair itself is a veil
We worship the flaw, the belly, the belly
By the amount of piss and seed I could exude
I am lying peacefully and my knees are open to the sun
I desire him and he is absolutely ready to seize me
The narrow archway, the layers, the scroll of ancient lettuce
With the way my hair was cropped, I craved, craved covering
From the splinters of stations and walls I've caressed
The lights were violet and [Incomprehensible] white
Some nights I'd surprise everybody by skipping off
In heart, I am Moslem, in heart, I'm an American artist and I have no guilt
In, in, in, in, in heart, I am a Moslem, in heart, I am an American
