my first island woman was kray;
she wanted me to wear her panties
if i was going out that night without her.
my second island woman was kray;
she made a voodoo doll out of me
and ensured i felt every needle.
my third island woman was kray;
she sliced open my chest,
took out my heart:
licked it, bit it, chewed it,
spit it back out and sewed it up.
my fourth, fifth, sixth, seventh,
eighth, ninth, tenth, eleventh,
twelfth, thirteenth, fourteenth,
were all just as kray, but i can’t
stop; i’m addicted to the spice;
might be because i’m a jerk.