Wems Henry Temmy Psalm 72
The fleshy muscle so relax
Whispers use at ease without pressure
Or charges unto words-- tax
Your tongue is of no man's measure
Yet you are man's owned refresher
When silence parades climax
That heartbeats live in tempting leisure
To save possible regrets in flashbacks
Your tongue has never been sour
To the night of Your belove
When in checks of his heart's dour
Strengthening his charged dove
Your tongue is sweetie
Everyone loves and wants it
That's a great meaty
Of a quest in thought missing hit
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