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Spice
Knock at my door,
Ill show you the floor.

Touch my wrist,
I'll put your heart in a twist.

Kiss my lips,
I'll jive your hips.

Meet in the night,
I will surely bite.

Bend the curve,
Work up the nerve.

Sheets are on the bed,
She might just give head.

The heat sinks in,
Time to make our sin.


 2005 David Greg Harth
05.06.23.16:17:20@NYC