…hugging the tender sides, slipping on the Mid-Galaxy, a trumpet in the middle…bells on the Lilies Road, lily-storm on the lines of candor, down in the bazaar…on the treasure and the secret road…up on His Sweetness…tulip-love…climbing, slipping, landing…infinite ecstasy…ignition
And he’s the one complaining of coldness…fall on the whole sweet, wet, dirty Aussie…
