CHANGE

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

Find my original 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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CHANGE

I hear change/
If you are here; may stay; wait,
change your fearful inner state/
If we make rooms dear; adopt expensive tastes; spent tastes,
for the sake of making some great top-tier change,
we can change near rooms into nearer changing rooms; roommates,
so we'll always be nearing queer changing-rooms; hallways; ways;
in all ways/

Change the station/
Propose an investigation into the frustrations of stagnation/
Make transactions a fraction better than actions pushing hesitation/
Any deviation from the norm is a call to action for those who don't conform/
Fuck perpetuation of the status quo, promote dope moods and models in a store where cases and those behind them, naked, both move, and cue no clothes, elation, no vacations, instigation, inflammation, being on the floor for the adoration of flawless masturbation, saturation, infatuation, and intense devotion to retail sales that rely on lactation/
After hours, I'm after more with you,
and a shower in the store with you/
So, cue no tubes, behold new apparently golden, gilded suitcases, and no lube/
Get my attitude?/
Affix your interpretation, on a paper plane so we can at least make believe it'll take off like a craze, of these verses to my pursed lips using purses full of spare change that will strangely seemingly change into stinky sticky sweat after you become spent with intent/
And seal any fixation with a kiss/
Buy what I'm saying,
and sell sex/
You live once, so live behind a counter less, count to ten, dispense with your specific liquids that smell of incense, counter capitalism with sex, and wet dead presidents, and presidential sex, and get breathless/
Ask what's next,
with nothing more than anticipatory breath/
Fuck the produce,
and I'll buy it from you, fully used/
I need you,
re. useful juices I'd consume,
if I went down on you on the counter,
like I'm a down payment on the sound of you/
Is this transaction approved?/

I hit a wall,
like that's what the gravity of the situation's propelling me forward for;
like some business is all out of floors;
out of rivets; riveting customer-bases; bases are short/
In comes you; Cynthia; a Filipina swan,
so I can now poetically build some building of rapport/
You're instantly someone I intrinsically adore/
Some framework for connections between us is fiddly, if tangible, but sure/
You're inquiring about frames in the store,
while your breath hits me raw,
like an old flame; memories I can't ignore/
I inch my nose toward your lips; mouth more/
Think up any word, and say it, and I'm all yours/
And you're richly on fire; in top form,
even in lip-synching to an instrumental score/
Your breath's like permission to reposition myself as totally leftist, in repositioning myself leftward; iffy; unadorned, if given; short; in sport of sorts; highly sought/
Kinks are hard to work out, sure; of muscles; the reason for spots being sore; in closed doors/
I think that kinks can get a bad rap; be in bad wraps; be an issue; actually be solutions to put forth/