Give Me My Soma, You Pretty Young Thing
I swallow her bluest serenity whole
So she may return the favor,
In her consumption of my soul
My feelings I may waiver.
Give me my soma, you pretty young thing
So I can’t imagine the happiness you bring.
Then should your lips depart my direction,
I shall not regret exquisite perfection.
Let my dreams dissolve with numbing sleep
And dispense my blood of wonder,
For from my fears she’ll gently keep
The pain that would asunder.
Give me my soma, you pretty young thing
So I can’t imagine the happiness you bring.
Then should your lips depart my direction,
I shall not regret exquisite perfection.
And so our fleeting tryst must end
And fondness found thereof,
For she forbids to comprehend
A notion such as love.
Give me my soma, you pretty young thing
So I can’t imagine the happiness you bring.
Since your lips did depart my direction,
I cannot regret exquisite perfection.
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