them trombone dildoesare masked and readythey got the swingthat don’t mean a thingthey’re just happyto have an audiencefor their jism schismthere’s rhythmin their methodand they play real musicfor the nectar socketsin a dance best performedon the horizontal planeor bent over doublebareback for your troublein unholy carnal daisy chainsnecessities childrenhave no need of namesjust a stranger’s