Native Soul, share with me your tribal lips in this wasteland of whispers,
Oh mad shaman can I kiss her?
Drink the sweetness of her elixir?
Lungs of dust, exhale me in swirls of ancient fire,
Dance upon my spirit with ravaged hunger,
Embrace me heartbeat's savage thunder.
Permit me worship those features, so sculpted From Great Mother's mocha soil,
Forged in the womb of sensual toil
To fill my engines with burning hot oil.
Native Soul, slip a moon rock between my lips,
Possess my body worship your hips
Upon the altar of the iris sunrise,
Sun set against the silhouette's third eye.
I will swallow you like the sun swallows the moon
As the red dawn ushers in the afternoon
With stains of scorched black earth,
Where I laid down to worship your church.
Goddess of the noble truth, sing to me primal visions of beastly ecstasy
And shed this social skin that makes us cold,
Adorn us now with robes of fur, so warm and bold.
Native Soul, great lovers can we be?
For I am the tiger, and you the turtle of the sea,
So shall I swim across this desert ocean
To taste your sunburnt lips with my devotion.