The City Between Her Legs Is Not Verona

Otherwise I'd be leccatura The same stone already had By Montague And the dog would be white As opposed to That one that's following me And sniffing at my crotch We'd be bronze With an aura... borealis Vetivert introvert Meets a Taurus flower And like back garden children Chewing and scratching this été We bite the ripened apple On the grass