May 10, 1999
They found my body in the Playboy Mansion
Strung up with silicone tits and chapped pricks.
I’ve been memorizing the shape of that cloud,
her ass, the shadows, like I’ve never seen.
I am body, rigor mortis. But I am still my soul.
I wonder, will I always be?
I knew Earth and Heaven still would be
But not the sluts and hollow mansion
halls that hold my horny soul.
Death does not emasculate, does not devour pricks.
The hedonism inside cannot be unseen.
But I’m not haunted by a cloud.
I’ve dreamt for decades, my childish head in the clouds.
Things ain’t as sweet as they used to be.
But death is like that: unforeseen.
Decision time: should I haunt this mansion?
Spook them, make them suck my prick.
I’ll say what I like now I don’t worry about my soul.
I met a devil, but he didn’t want my soul.
Begged me to bend over, then raped me in the clouds.
Laughing at my soft, mortal prick.
I took it without fear, choked on what I could be.
Then woke up in this mansion.
With familiar things I’ve never seen.
May I ask you if you’ve seen
my dearly departed soul?
The devil didn’t take it ‘cause I lost it in the mansion
long before I tasted clouds.
I don’t know where it could be.
Hidden between loose lips and wrinkled pricks?
Open wide, darling, here come the pricks.
Determined to be felt, relieved, seen
as naked as could be.
I don’t even want my soul.
What good would it do in this mansion?
No one here needs a soul, no one will touch the clouds.
You need a soul to fuck the clouds.
A pussy to fuck the pricks.
I prefer the sultry mansion,
I prefer the tricks I’ve seen.
No, I do not want my soul.
Drink me. Taste me. Let me be.
Devil dearest, take my soul and let me be.
I’ve seen the chastity offered to me by the clouds.
And Lord, I’ll take the pricks and glory holes of this mansion.