Don’t Have to Get Elsewhere (day 1024)

My baby’s the kind of sex
I don’t have to get elsewhere
To her I run and I hide
Inside every desire to me

My baby’s the art of performance
She’s a changing rhythm, time
And I’m right in it
Leading the orchestration

My baby’s the whispering winds
Coming to me at all angles
In the evening hours she whispers
In the daylight hours she screams

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