NewBorn

The beginning of time seems not to be so far behind

Cause the crevasses of her end is the tip of you creation

This African bee, with curves drawn by time

Laying in your bed, with quivering thighs

Demanding your touch with the night's rhythm

Anxious fingertips meeting with her skin

Don't you like the way she takes you in

The way her juices make your labor sweet

The guidance of love you won't need tonight

Cause just like breathing it is subconscious

Just like a newborn, you'll yell to survive