You are a banana moon subverting the sun.

Your unexpected shinty entangles us in a web of premature leaves and precocious wigwalkers.
Your face is like an imperfectly shaven giant head.
Be still, my love, my gronkjunkled flarge. I am consumed with your collection of grotesque fans dripping with pocked congealed vim.
Your pharyngeal hair trickles divine underbelly flatulence of my geometric Kylie erector set with Chas and Dave style piano.

My vision won't be cuddly...
My vision won't be cuddly...
My vision won't be cuddly...
You are a banana moon subverting the sun.