SEPARATION

The lyrics are all mine.
The image was generated using Leonardo.ai.
The voice and music were generated using Suno.com.

Find my original entire book of rap here:
https://www.amazon.com.au/Sales-Pitch-Matthew-Vandenberg/dp/1685830749

Here are the original posts, from 2016:
https://www.facebook.com/share/p/17s3BZntoL/

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SEPARATION

Fuck separating friend and date, like they're state and church; Beijing and Taipei/
Preach free lesbian love from an Elephant-mountainous pulpit/
A Bible's a boner in my pocket; rocket; A prick whom both sides don't want; shot it/
Don't bother using UV light to read the writing/
Peak between periods and see Taiwan-straight-lines/
To further be honest,
your electric gaze has me shocked when I get an idea to look into your eyes and a mental metal key to the lock on your attention-span spanning my electrons, like elections spanning the years and, like my American aware-elders and peers, I still "Hashtag: FeelTheBern", like political awareness is hot, and we're wet, when my views are firm, like a clitoral erection;
hard socialization between China and Taiwan/
This is not just sex,
it's a revolt/
This is not fresh/
Better yet, your hot breath is inflammatory mentally/
Deep breaths can stop the bankers betting with our pennies/
Breathe out one to ten times and stop some recession; spent's what to be/
Because I'll move toward you. It's an obsession/
A transaction's just enacted in working up a sweat in a race far saner than a rat race/
It's fine enough to micro-chip in now, like it's with words in edgewise, while a case is small but just as great/
But then . . . my head's spinning like a free third wheel/
I count three/
Maybe I'd rather be attached and not a free third wheel,
like Kinmen County/
Spin it/
Maybe I'm a disc of the DJ/
Maybe I'm a sad song/
Maybe I'll be replayed/
Sing it/
Maybe some statistics need re-saying/
Loneliness can kill/
So, tell everyone to keep playing/
Keep playing/
This ain't even fucking deep/
I just wrote it in my sleep/
Every catnap, I keep praying for a date/
And now I only have free months and not just days of dog days/
Men are dogs, but I'm looking for the female make,
to make waves/
Spin again/
Take no breaks/
I didn't stumble, I was flirting/
I didn't mumble, I was hurting/
I didn't bungle up my lines, I was writing about ways not working as a means of flirting/
It's for a co-worker whom I'm working, and this work's addressed to her/
I'd love to be with you/
I didn't miss missing chances, but dismissed you, ditched you, and made other plans best/
I didn't kiss you, and haven't caressed your breasts yet/
It's like I'm speaking to a brick wall that's the fairer sex,
and there's a tremor/
It's like defenses are dispensed, so I can't rent the space between us, like it's hard and heavy, so we're never together/
I wanna lift chicks up, like they're weights and they're fairly wet/
If they fall on me then finally we'll have daring sex/
In my head my muse says:
'If the weights are a fence you stand hard on, waiting with a clitoral hard-on, then kill the limbo and go for broke with new lingo you wrote'/
If floats were made of ice, they could melt, and I'd be fine with your hands on mine, but I don't know if you're cold as ice/
That's probably bold and wise/
The Asian plain I'm on is taking off;
pop!/
Prepare for takeoff/

******

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