Gold and crimson tinged, flittering leaves litter the streets
Sitting beneath the trees, she sleeps
Didn't believe that a being so beautiful flew this low
Using slumber to stun others
With features almost musical
And when her low notes,
My soul hopes for something more than friendly
When her golden notes hit other folks, I feel close to envy
I'd never wake her, but if the slumber ever ceases
I would rouse her with my kisses and tussle with her demons
Seemingly familiar even though I know I've never met her
Like I send a dream in a letter to heaven and it sent her
There's a lover, never met, yet she's sleeping in my covers
There ain't no others, count the rubbers up to prove it
Don't want to be the nuisance always asking, "Wanna do it?"
Shoot, my lingua's always fluent
And even if our paths don't cross,
I know our wants are congruent
Incessantly
Her exceptional essence and presence is testing my sensory, incessantly
Does destiny beckon me to set next to thee, indefinitely
"Yes," says the memories, incessantly
Then with the best of me, let it be
To quest for the recipe
To wrestle the delicate thread imbedded in the chest of she
So string-heart heads to me
Sensibly, in depth, pensively, yet intensely
She made my heartsprings stretch screams like guitar string-fret swing sets
Yet she still left when chills crept through the treble clefs
Better get another pump bolted in, it broke again
It's housings are rusted, it's only tin
June '93, rock-a-bye baby
Waking up out of the tree
Was she smiling at me?
Me with the hat back, knapsack, no tact
Told her I watched her sleep and read her my amorous raps
She loved that, a pleasant surprise
Then she went with whatever like a drink and some fries
All right Ms. Honey B. Devine
She offered me a ride, and yet we ended up talking all night
Summer of the Skee-o, the way a brother speak low
Yo, I'm not endorsing no reckless endangering
But I ran out of condoms like a modern Wilt Chamberlain
Send a shrug towards the struggle
Listerine and Al Green to squeeze a fuck out of a cuddle
But stuck out of the huddle whenever my friends swoop through
I say, "You're barking up the wrong tree"
They say, "She duped you"
Who, you mean my boo?
You're just mad 'cuz she don't like you
Snapping at what I have, that's the damage of spite, fool
You ain't even got the plums that I do
Go write a haiku and talk about all that's inside you
'Til the lightning strike split the divining tool that led my eyes to
The tree of life inside of you
It withered and died too soon
A little each time you pruned the beautiful side of truth by lying about
Who else was laying beside you