These are the good times, the high times.
Honey balm on my heels,
The serpents bite doesn’t sting so much,
And I’m really trying not to get caught
Up in pheromones and throaty moans,
Because I can’t tell when I’m crying
Out in ecstasy or pain. I’ve always
Been wondering about all the death;
I birth what can become life. I’m just
A dream of a machine and I still
End up letting you into these good times;
Showing my nakedness and I won’t
Ask to be covered because somehow I’ve
Got to get you to see me and
I just don’t want it to hurt so much.