Honeydrive – Michel Montecrossa

Sixteen years before this midnight she was born,
not afraid of being sold as a slave, a fair-skinned girl.
No scars of dreams or of unfulfilled desires
did paint graffitis into her face of light.

Her mother was an alien, adopting a human egg.
Enjoyin’ a young man’s seed she made
the journey into land of forbidden DNA,
brought to light of birth a new way of bein’ great.

Now this girl is color on widescreen-horizons.
She’s drivin’ out the grey, knows opulent emotions.
She’s a choir in a strange and haunted house.
I caress her honeydrive, know her wishes, know her doubts.

All-out on discovery we have charming debates.
No hysterical bride she knows the master-ways.
We go to power-places of erotic celebrations.
We fuse romantic sunsets with darkest confusion.

Yearnin’ love divides corrupted cops,
confuses wealth and style and shockproof jobs,
kills ethnic prejudice and arrogance of capital,
incalculable crime and its devouring call.

She commands brightest lives,
is a beauty-dream doin’ all of them beautiful things.
Sensual lips she has and moving eyes.
Troublefree she is my honeydrive.

Sixteen years before this midnight she was born,
not afraid of being sold as a slave, a fair-skinned girl.
No scars of dreams or of unfulfilled desires
did paint graffitis into her face of light.