ON OUR WAY FROM THE BALL.

My fingers in her fanny
On the back seat of a taxi,
And she was fucking lucky as
They could a’ been up her jacksy;
But either way she loved it,
You could feel it on her breath,
And by the time we made the distance
There was no resistance left.

She was spreading even wider,
And was dripping on the seat,
I nearly lost my wrist watch
To that dirty bitches’ heat;
And after rending her asunder
I whispered in her ear,
It was a good job that her brother
Didn’t turn around and see her.

He’d a’ been rightly disgusted
To see her legs apart,
And me up to my elbow
Strumming strings inside her heart;
With her sweet bowed lips set wide,
And her red tongue flicking out,
Dipping its long tip
Around the edges of my mouth.

And her eyes connecting dots of music
On imaginary scores,
Rolling in and out her head
In time with our accord,
And coming rather quietly,
Well as quiet as could be,
You see our circumstances
Didn’t warrant noisily.