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letra de loves stencil - melanin 9

[chorus: madame pepper]
i don’t crave perfection, no not me
but what you gave in my perception is all i need
i don’t crave perfection, no not me
but what you gave in my perception is all i need

[verse 1: melanin]
bronze smothered silk
took a couple months to pluck you in your quilt
now i’m staring at a love scripture coloured in guilt
roll with cyrus you met me when i was the cold in isis
late nights poking where your body holds your fibres
shotting oz of hybrid
l!cking stones across distant oceans you provided
silk woven eyelids
what maps the soul that bestows inside it
like a binary star solar alignment
thinking if she’s focused i could wife it
close your irises as we lean on the wooden door
i lift your leg with my flesh pressed on your cushioned walls
and slide between your tailored fabric
p-ssy paint stains the mattress
stabbing the core sp-ce of your axis
couple bags flipped on the phonecall in the cab quick
my plans fit in loves stencil as i twist the matchstick
your feminine fat grips the pattern in your pants [?]
the more your back dips contours in all the right places
eyes like a messiahs oasis
[?]
show these [?] from elijahs pages
bags of rice, dice and crayfish
questioning life’s equation
on an island [?] asians
the unbalanced relations defines common polarities
with things that i wish would abandon me
you want a family
i had to stop shooting before the cops come and capture me
and grip me like a spatula and disband my salary
[chorus: madame pepper]
i don’t crave perfection, no not me
but what you gave in my perception is all i need
i don’t crave perfection, no not me
but what you gave in my perception is all i need

[verse 2: melanin 9]
peaking coloured linen
fresh air ones with arabic gum stitching
the sun glistens as flowers put blushes on your rum pigment
what hovers distant is a past you fear no man can relate
scallops and grapes, mansions in paris with gates
hands on your waist rubbing two inches above your ovaries
your stroke’s an esoteric blanket
caressing the soul with the pulses in your handprint
soft as an emollient exposed in a sandprint
chosen to stand in a poet’s soaked sheet
written in magnolia oat leaves
my soul bleeds infinite sentiments on every stroked weave
your auras peach with distorted contortions we all perceive
i want to share that with you
but wanting this career is an issue
with infinite visions like a prison for crystals
twin pillars with glyphs depict the things we grip to
and hold sacred like a monoatomic bracelet
carved with the same ink i used to stroke the page with
[chorus: madame pepper]
i don’t crave perfection, no not me
but what you gave in my perception is all i need
i don’t crave perfection, no not me
but what you gave in my perception is all i need

- melanin 9

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