Soul Dinner Party

I'm mainly confused from words that you used to tell me of yr problems present, I'm torn to this way then back to that way, like the end of a pendulum's crescent, I feel yr torment which leaves my heart bent and gives me one wish to sustain, for I feel it is constant to be what is meant without blockage or early refrain, all that eye know is my heart's saying "Go" but my feet, hands, and lips saying "slow down", and I should trust my own head over things that I've read And just to be happy for love found... but my doubts creep in again (the most unwelcome of friends) whom I've come to know all to well, I just want best for you my Kinshala Blue Even if it means visiting Hell, but (you know) I'll come back on an aggressive attack 'Cause I am so strong and so true So ignore what I've just said, and rest yr sweet head my Angel, my Kinshala Blue And now for a diff 'rent - ish style which I can only compile cause you cause my soul to ferment, I just want you to see that I'm here (if you want me) so it is no matter how said, whether in Russian, or French whether Latin, or Spanglish from Kinshala I want to be fed.... (with) spoon silver or wooden or a spork (if a good one) you can use ( I don't care which) be it hot or ceviche Be Cyranno or Nietzche Kinshala You've carved yr own niche in my heartland of love - trust You can bake me in yr pastry crust with Yr simple palette insatiable, you can stir fry my soul and serve me up in a bowl (while) Inhaling my essence comme felatio... then for the fourth course You could derive from my source all the sweetness required (and then some) You could roll me and toss me Pour over, and sauce me While never dropping a crumb