At starry skies they splashed milk white whey black
I had a yen I sensed a futile lack
I cussed a chance I missed to catch your fine face
It seems the beautiful folk rate a race
Apart if your eye sight accedes the knack
The rest of us in ratios out of whack
The giants and dwarves too races granted grace
I see the symmetries they captivate
As you flog fresh flowers from a diesel van
Arse curved skin silk eyes clued up when they pan
How my heart flutters my joints reanimate
The stars seem cold and hot enduring dots
If youre a goddess well I look to lots
Chorus dotes iotas motes