Pink Matter av Frank Ocean: en sang men også et slags dikt
And the peaches and the mangos you could sell for me
what do you think my brain is made for, is it just a container for the mind?
this great grey matter
Sensei replied what is your woman, is she just a container for the child?
that soft pink matter, cotton candy, Majin Buu
close my eyes and fall into you
my god she's giving me pleasure
What if the sky and the stars are for show and the aliens are watching live, from the purple matter?
Sensei went quiet then violent and we sparred until we both grew tired
cotton candy, maajin bu
dim the lights and fall into you
my god giving me pleasure
pleasure, pleasure, pleasure, pleasure over matter
Since you been gone I been having withdrawals
you were such a habit to call
I ain't myself at all had to tell myself naw, she's better with some fella with a regular job
I didn't wanna get her involved
by dinner Mr. Benjamin was sittin' in awe
hopped into my car drove far, far's too close and I remember my memories no sharp
butter knife, what a life anyway, I'm building y'all a clock stop, what am I- Hemingway?
she had the kind of body that would probably intimidate any of 'em that were un-southern
not me, cousin
if models are made for modeling thick girls are made for cuddlin'
switch worlds and we can huddle then
who needs another friend, I need to hold your hand, you'd need no other man, we'd flee to other lands
blue used to be my favorite color, now I ain't got no choice. Blue matter.
You're good at being bad.
You're bad at being good.
For heaven's sakes go to hell, knock knock on wood
you're good at being bad, you're bad at being good
for heaven's sakes go to hell, knock knock knock knock on wood
well frankly when that ocean so muhfuckin' good, make her swab the muhfuckin' wood
make her walk the muhfuckin' plank, make her rob a muhfuckin' bank with no mask on and a rusty revolver