If Music be the Food of Love....

(If music be the food of love
Then I must be Henry the VIII
Cause I’ve broken the hearts and necks of lovers,
While generously gorging my face.)

I like to allow myself to marinate,
Over nights of deprivation.
Starving myself of music to make the wait,
Worth waitin'.
Sucking barley sugar and jazz to make my temper patient
Dreaming of a musical banquet or just a break....
Beat.
Breath.

The guilt tastes like heaven with just a pinch of salt,
I help it rise to the festive occasion,
With just the twist of a nob.
Turn up the oven,
Add in the spice.
Without the music playing it'll never taste as nice.

Then its at this time of night,
I eat better than Hannibal Lector.
Feasting on lips, hands and headboards made of leather.
And if you can’t stand the heat,
You’ll never eat as well,
Cause if music be the food of love,
well it’s hot as fuck in hell!