Mark of the Male

[Intro]
Mark my feral finger when
Flesh arrives and it ascends
Under garments free and wild
Living life unreconciled

[Verse 1]
There’s no better feeling than a hard-on
I guess the closest thing is the feeling of holding a gun
But instead of being cold and rigid, it’s a gun made out of hot meat, your own flesh and blood
It’s warm, and it tingles, and somehow it’s hard and soft at the same time, and it’s yours, and it’s your power, it’s your gun

[Verse 2]
And what do you do with a gun?
You shoot it
You look for a nice target, you take aim, and you squeeze the trigger, and that fucking gun goes blam!
There’s nothing like it
I guess the only thing that would make it better would be if you could put another bullet in it
And just shoot that fucker again
And again
And again
And again! And again! And again! And again! And again! And again!
Oh well, nothing is perfect