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Apple Pie Sweet Stuff
Sweet love like honey-bunch-oaks,
rub me down like mummylocks,
the core so round and deep,
juice be the seeds,
candy apple-red-bone,
maybe that's why she stay,
cause that woman love sweet-talk,
never thought I would see the day,
that my arms would be hugging,
back to the sweet stuff,
I'm not trying to wife her,
cause she wouldn't man me,
that apple pie good as a pecan pie,
wears glasses to protect from stream,
cooking smoke into the flame,
call her red-bone-honeyoaks,
seduction oh baby oh my,
digging into the core of fire,
like that apple won't be-tomarrow,
what a pie if you had one,
my apple pie sweet stuff.
poem
by
Tommy Laster
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