The Mystical Fold

We all came back from the furry furnace,

From Buffalo gums,

And temple of poon,

Engrained into that Serpent socket,

Owing so much to our home wookie,

Without the love glove or the holiest of holies, We have no future,

So much so we are indebted to the dove breast, We sing unto to mound of Venus,

Praise the Python syphon,

Be grateful for every pink cookie,

Boy in a canoe, or thresher,

U owe the flesh tuxedo,

This enchilada of love,

From that pearl hotel u were,

Produced from the pink portal,

That axe gash of perfect mingus,

The hot tamaki walk,

Your silk funnel was ready,

This lap flounder was the grandest canyon,

But was also the crave cave,

The cooter muffin,

the pink panther,

And peters glove,

We never called her  pachinko, ponchita, or vidgie,

Only the pink panther and sometimes the Velcro love triangle,

Camarillo Brillo,

These are names for the same flower,

We come from