I lie in ambush

Under the prison of my skin

Here's my entrenched camp

The world needs fierce slowness, the world needs Vigorous quietness and my palpitations

In the combustion chamber I dilate the living in me

Until this indecent incandescence

I loosen I tighten I give some slack, I storm myself

It is kind of a war

Where the pleasure is all mine

Now I smell of earth and moss And sea flowers

I'm a devastated queen I celebrate the dew

Opalescent liquor of my too too liquid flesh

Angels of idleness have always escorted me

Good little soldiers I worship you

My whole life is a bower if not a flower

I loosen I tighten, I give some slack, I storm myself

It is kind of a war

Where the pleasure is all mine

Now I feel butterflies Butterflies in my tummy