Looking at you I am lustful
You have made a god of yourself
Denial is far from your straight lined black curl, clear with your red dailing top.
Nooo! You cannot be the one Andre spoke about,
Thinking about those hardened days around you, the sound like that of a puppy lost for milk.
Can I run from this evil monster before me?
Oh! Terekaba when you drip, the tap on my oiled toe screams for more.
Sadly you happen to end with your eyes begging for more, tired but yet not satisfied.
Terekaba you have brought children to the wrong path but yet we miss you.