FENCE I

The lyrics are all mine.
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The voice and music were generated using Suno.com.

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FENCE I

If I can be where some sweat meets air I'm aware I'm under arms, so we best meet there, in the heat of summer sun, and under a number of cunts of lovers of all class standings, standing up, and raising arms if they have stuff to say when they then rush past us, to get passed during class without a farce or fuss, if it's to be on the art of playing the part a personified heart plays in people whom were mutually vilified now hugging and making up with one another, with heavy make-up on one and the other that's only the sweat that's gloves, and hands being put in hands, with this also being covered by reporters coming here to understand the heart's role in pushing classes for adult lovers; pushing push-ups; the exercise for adult lovers watching one another, in one another, self-aware, and aware of wonders, with their hearts beating fast to figuratively push past anything else in line to be on minds, and when you feel her beating heart you'll find you're a bleeding heart/
Call her sharp and smart/
Reporters know the half of it/
If members of lower castes have been fast considered daft in the past then in the future the former tutors who used to scrutinise these potential suitors will find they're lusting after those whom they've been mentally unable to touch/
It's called fetishization and like naturalization, and a celebration of an intense crush and a nation/
Figuratively crash the nation's party as said crush: a crowd of so-called cunts, close enough to touch,
while sparking debates about a point of elation, such as when and why is one one;
to sigh when women's legs are wide apart, and their eyes wide, like they're traveling far and wide, and cue border trade due to their turbulent sides, in promoting and creating fascination with states and places for mates, dates, and even divination/
If the page of a sacred Hindu text is turned, this Kama Sutra looks like muscles being flexed, and again and again until hands need a rest, and tongues used are put to the test: they can cover more than books in classes; when they're sharp; for condoning lovers and love/
They can be as blunt as me when I ask for lovers; to lick cunts; and as blunt as a soft heart beating fast, as we all come together as figurative puzzle pieces harden enough/
Start to harden the fuck up bud, but not your heart, if you're a Hindu who can't stand women behind start-ups, or chicks on the up-and-up, with their tongues licking clits of other chicks who lust for coming much/
Stop and stare at a number of sluts/
They mean more than a number of bucks, and if you disapprove I don't give a number of fucks/
In class I'll sum up a summer of coming after putting my hand up/
I start a cunt up like she's a lawn mower close to moaning over here; over greener grass now on my side of, after overreaching, a fence, to reach its owners, in getting sounds out to those over owning a fence/
The fence is clothes, so dispense with those/
A smell's born of burning with curiosity about others/