When We Do the Dance

We heavy a glance with good lust Can't wait for a chance when it's only the two of us Yes just us, hey but in a way Boss, I want to Bust into your great great grandmother's uterus In a deep time sense When we do the dance, high priests ordained it Our blood demands it. The Lord commands it Future generations might applaud us, standing And our foremothers' lovers and them Form a fabric of this, put their lips to the hem And blow the shofar softly— not to sound lofty— Or whatever, dungchen or bagpipes by proxy When we do the dance, high priests ordained it Our blood demands it. The Lord commands it Future generations might applaud us, standing When we do the dance, high priests ordained it Our blood demands it. The Lord commands it Blow the shofar softly— not to sound lofty— or Whatever, dungchen or bagpipes by proxy