WAFT

The lyrics are all mine.
The image was generated using Leonardo.ai.
The voice and music were generated using Suno.com.

Find my entire book of rap here:
https://www.amazon.com.au/Sales-Pitch-Matthew-Vandenberg/dp/1685830749

Here are the original posts, from 2016:
https://www.facebook.com/share/p/17s3BZntoL/

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WAFT

I'm seeking everlasting wafts/
I'm preaching ever-fast-ening songs/
There's a catch/
There's presently some breezy fleeting permeation of a pong/
There's a streamlined snatch of breath near a snatch/
Can this act catch on?/

I see you walking by with a sweater you wear on, while wet, wrapped around your upper arms/
You look so fly, like trying to get under and high up on your arms/
Can I make a bet your sweat will get me off, like your breath as you laugh?/
I'm a fly so on that I'm over walls now. Can we find some path?/
Your skin's a sweat-soaked pavement, and my fingers hit the ground running. I'm coming, like I'll have a run-in with you when I collapse, and it's fun if I do/
I'm just trying to sum up the way I move/
It's cautiously, with random muses obviously not supporting me/
They're everywhere, but like some foundation, they're not where they ought to be/
I'm dizzy, coz your mind's eye never finds the time to capture me rapidly/
Everything's arranged like marriages, with the way babes think and travel in India in seemingly pre-drawn, and destiny-assured, boxes; carriages/
It's hard to get around this, like they're tuk-tuks;
like my head's my body and I'm over heels;
falling down to give your foot, which you would have been kicking yourself with, a kiss/
We are better together; can get some prehistoric mentality to collapse with only a wish/
I'm lost. You're like a ring when running around me, in seemingly generating electricity to make tunnels running south through some stony-faced foundations visually appealing when lights in your eyes at your end of one, my ceiling, draw close to me; more than brush past me. There can be a rush and we can come together, and I just fell thinking it through, and collapse, when ironically the reason's healing, and hang around, like fingers are pegs and arms are wet, and I'll then wanna smell you around me, like your vagina is the mood I'm in/
What's not wrong? Did I put my middle finger on your clit?/
You move by me like a train moves by Mumbai/ You've been trained to move by guys, and maybe by guys, but why not stay by my side for a date?, coz tradition and being submissive and stone-faced, is so dated, so sigh/
You blow raspberries, with fruity breath/
Call that blowback/
There's a fire in your heart. Can I approach that?/
Don't clap if you move your head back to do that, coz the scent of your breath wafts away, like your hands are a niqab in Iraq/
After coming here, you won't see some barriers and stand to see your head back/
I can't stand to see you head back/
Show no restraint. Don't check that/
Fuck husbands, and leave it to yourself to get off on a hijab like mad/
Slip out of your decorative clothes more, like they're a bag, if you wanna act like an object less and own less and less every weekend,
coz consumers are usually obsessed with each one before them, like they respect themselves less/

I'm seeking everlasting wafts/
I'm preaching ever-fast-ening songs/
There's a catch/