Some things can be so dear, you hardly own them
But having them all can also be a problem
Some things are so dear, you want them all
But what happens when vulvas are ornaments on your wall
It’s one life, one wife or a boo
I love skirts, my wife’s own I mean and few extras too
I crave for the appetite of King Solomon
I want to be another King Solomon
Wealthy, wicked and wise
He walked on the sea of thighs
In mathematics, equations are made to be solved
In life skirts are made to be loved
If I can just be King Solomon for a sec
I’ll cut the noose of contentment woven around my lean neck
For he had more lines than a book of graph
And with his semen, he signed autographs
A woman’s heart hardly stands mouthful of his poems
His name leaves a weight of honey on tongues
But one day he sang the Song of Songs

Once upon a time
When affections were not traded for a dime
When vanity was at its mid rhythm
When the singer’s harem was a pyramid
Through the windows of his eyes, he saw a maiden
She was indeed a fountain flowing garden
She was a Rose and a Lilly
And she loved her beloved fiance silly
Solomon’s deadly lines fanned her ears only
In the midst of 700 plus 300, he was still lonely
She was dead to all his riches and flattery
Solomon, Queens get in touch (torch) like bulb and battery
Soured soup, I mean the maiden and her shepherd lover
It was a timeless monument for the mentor of Casanova
But there is time for everything under the sun
A time to gain all and a time to lose one
If only poor Solomon knew
If only foolish Solomon had a clue…