Is this maths or just some science?
Clawing into my veins with so much ease
Is this some solution to the pain of endurance
That hits against tough walls of placidity?
Is this the fibre of your youthful charm
That relates to the surge of womanly desire
Is this the rosy veil of sweetened softness
That rigs with finesse at the dainty heart
This is the science of pure cloned maths
That easily claws into my firmness
This endurance of painful suffering
So hits against the walled toughness
With charmed youthfulness that is the fibre
Of womanly desire that surges forth
Unto the softness of rosy sweet veils
That surround the puckered heart that rigs
mandara pookal
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