Eyes like dark, deep forests.
Fingers like furious rivers.
Tongues like roving doves.
Lips like spinning echoes.
In chorus
they float, flame and flounder
through the mad night
arriving,
again, again and again,
at the tangled pathways of passion
at the ravenous hunger
that is the origin
of all origins.
Fingers like furious rivers.
Tongues like roving doves.
Lips like spinning echoes.
In chorus
they float, flame and flounder
through the mad night
arriving,
again, again and again,
at the tangled pathways of passion
at the ravenous hunger
that is the origin
of all origins.