Inspirations’ come a-thronging – As my Empress for me comes longing.
To silver temptress strum a songing – As stenographers record our wronging.
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My lady Gwen, our mother hen, eternal source of autumn spring.
No matter when, command me sin, internal force pendulum swing.
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In council chambers – I’ll be thy ranger – to delve thine valleys – to mount thy peaks.
Renounce our names – we’ll be the same – our bodies mingled – our souls to seek
You sit your throne – my flesh and bone – yours to inspire – or yours to chafe
In council chambers – where we play strangers – to keep your secret – to keep it safe
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Oh silver goddess – I’m Jonesing, honest – I need some Gwen – to Yang my Yin
Oh puppet master – tug my strings faster – I’ll dance a dervish – a deadly spin
I’ll breach decorum – announce a forum – solicit proposals – to fill thy cup
I’ll reach consensus – of all five senses – illicit motions – my time is up.
