My heart is in real turmoil ,
As I recall when I lay in the soil!
In the night lit by the moon,
One after the other on me-damn she goons!
With their red painted lips,
I felt them on me gyrate their hips.
Down to the ground I was pinned,
As my poor manhood was made to grind!
Too proud to tell it to the authorities
But not ashamed to tell it on paper!