Mark of the Male Lyrics

Mark my feral finger when flesh arrives and it ascends
Under garments free and wild, living life unreconciled

There's no better feeling than a hard on
I guess the closest thing is the feeling of holding a gun
But instead of being cold and rigid, it's a gun made out of hot meat, your own flesh and blood
It's warm and it tingles and somehow it's hard and soft at the same time and it's yours it's your power it's your gun
And what do you do with a gun?
You shoot it
You look for a nice target, you take aim and you squeeze the trigger and that fucking gun goes blam

There's nothing like it
I guess the only thing that would make it better would be if you could put another bullet in it
And just shoot that fucker again
Oh well, nothing is perfect