Teeny Creamy

The weather is gettin’ hot and wetter.
Teeny Creamy follows the illumined way.
Standing on top of the golden ladder
Teeny Creamy is lookin’ into alleys of dirt.

The echo of material city-words
makes fantasies move into her world
of high heels and the color of her hair,
the depth of emotions behind every gaze.

Teeny Creamy movin’ with her body-dreams
feels the male smell surrounding her cheeks.
Teeny Creamy’s mysteries are the night’s softer glow.
She’s the author of a tale to the world unknown.

She runs her hand through her hair,
sees my face in the everywhere.
She is screamin’ from inside for a demanding outside.
With a face in the mirror she is locked up tight.

Teeny Creamy laughs with her heart a-thumping.
Casually she looks at her self-portrait.
The happiness of youth makin’ love with the world
makes brains explosive, vibrant all nerves.

There’s something in kissin’ the sex of a woman
that straightens it up,
makes you enter into the murmur.
Teeny Creamy givin’ the sign with her thighs,
Teeny Creamy with the love that tries.

There’s rumour goin’ on she is leavin’ soon.
She’s the best promoter of her glory-room,
walks over to the cushion,
knows what to do,
at 5 p.m. awakes, listens to the tune.

Watchin’ for a moment I focus attention.
I clean up my life just like a room.
Manipulation of imagination: a dire scene.
There’s always rubbish, nothing stays clean.

Man or woman, boy or girl:
Sex is fatal if warmth is not there.
Smilin’ at her I will show her my bed.
It’s fifty-fifty she won’t shake her head.

I lay down on my bed with her in my dream.
Teeny Creamy looks up from the streets,
wants something to eat, comes up to me.
Still in the same place I kiss her sweet.

Neon lights flicker, there’s a buzz in the air.
The night is nervous, she lowers her head.
Her hair flyin’ ‘cross the dark side of the moon,
visitors we are, makin’ love, changin’ doom.

Every day is a feast celebrating life.
Teeny Creamy enjoyin’ a soulful dive
bends back with her deepthroated cry.
The enigma of her illumines every sky.

Man or woman, boy or girl:
Sex is boring, if truth is not there.
Smilin’ I show her my bed.
It is clear she won’t shake her head.

Lyrics & Music: Michel Montecrossa, © Mira Sound Germany