Jigger of gentiles.

I like it when she holds my hand,
I like it when she strokes my sand,
I like it when she'll touch my face,
I like it when she says it'll be okay.

I like it when she fights by me,
I like it as she deals of death
         when she reeks of bled,
I like it when she takes care of me.

I like it when she wakes up first
Rouse yours truly with a bone and a thirst.
I like it when she sings in the rain,
I like it when she comes carrying the cane.

I like it when she moans under the moon,
I like it when she spasms fit to swoon.
I like it when she thrusts that blade
      between these fine shoulder blades,
I like it when she twists and turns like Fate.

I like her victories before the ides of March,
I'll carry her quickly over the bog of the marsh.
I like her fuss, I like her cuss,
I even like it most when she thinks she's a man.

I like the gardens in her hair,
I like the messed up clothes she wears,
I like her anger that rolls, beware!
I like her organ wet and de-stressed.

I like it when she calls me gangstar,
I like it when she forgets I'm a superstar.
I like to sing to her of Christmas,
And take her even to the bed-streams of Bolivia.

I like that painting she does,
With me in white and covered in shades.
I like her fuss, I like her thrust times three
I like it most when rolling to 1st Trust.

Even now,

               I like dem victories over vigilance,
               I, bright like the magis of Samarkand.
               I Wright even into U.B City,
              That play-time of angels, legends,

                                                                 boasting in the air.