TANGERINES

The lyrics are all mine.
The image was generated using Leonardo.ai.
The voice and music were generated using Suno.com.

Find my original entire book of rap here:
https://www.amazon.com.au/Sales-Pitch-Matthew-Vandenberg/dp/1685830749

Here are the original posts, from 2016:
https://www.facebook.com/share/p/17s3BZntoL/

#LeonardoAI
#Suno
#SalesPitch
#BookOfRap
#SuitcaseStore
#Travel
#Obsession
#Rap
#Lyrics
#AlbumDrop
#LGBTQI

TANGERINES

Cynthia, you're behind the synthesis of endorphins/
That's how intricate is the collective position we've adopted; got all in/
You're like an intricate syndicate of spent women; a bachelorette-superpod of dolphins/
We would surely all wither without long drops, and long lies or falls, being solely on me; liquid; of hints/
I'm honored that you wanted to source all of your microfibrous cloths through me; be saucy, often; wanna get through to me; could let your clothes slip off; drop your slips; embrace the more-intense sexual microporosity; sense sweat- and breath-deposits/

But the shallows I'm in are after damming a church; a dam of a church/
The only streaming is of When Life Gives You Tangerines; with tears; hurts/
In my real life, a woman, who's shallow, and another, can gradually get exposed as dry aspects of an actress; footnote; astroturf/
I guess that that's the dirt/
But I'm needing to be deep, like sighs; rising; rash; rush up a cunt headfirst/
I just wanna come; us to come; under a female Jesus landing on Earth; in passages and chambers of caves being made by women whacking off; incessantly international itinerant spelunkers/
I'm a lesbian humpback-whale; stranded; wailing to date, against all odds; for what it's feminine worth/
Only male whales tend to get attention; have worth; get heard/

My parachute is out of place,
if I'm falling for you, babe/
I don't know if I'm movingly worth the weight off your shoulder-blades,
as a date way too older than you?, Kali-of-a-caliphate/
But taking me to Saudi Arabia, and Mecca, means seeing a lot to me; just a lot to me; you giving me the runaround; me running around for days/
I've got a newer-age fate in mind of late; that's even later than latter days; like a pregnancy's term's late; it's for a new age that my views gestate/
I wouldn't mind futuristically making my fate bolder; being female-destiny's naturally-distinguishable face/
A taste of neo-robotic fate necessarily entails using a user-interface/
I spit so much that being gay doesn't mean that suits don't leave my suite with suitcases full of full condoms full of DNA/
Being fruitful is too straight/
And tumorous fruits don't do it for me; only get me into a vegetative state/
I don't need more fructose; any seed; on my plate/
My wit's more lively than kicking-fetuses in wombs anyway/
But flicking wombs could just come first, like indexing, like fingering, this, comes loosely with the terrain; be in getting you coming effusively; to clitoral spray/
I don't want you to feel cut, with me presumably feeling like a prick; to fit you in, without us both fitting in; make an appointment without you being made my female immediate superior; a Chinese-Japanese-Korean revolutionary fitting date, like a fixing date; fit date/
I champion Asian innovation when the soft mood dictates/
Cue optimal über-female provocative-postures and postulates/
Cue fingering tangerines; picking up on creative juices surrounding learning how to masturbate/
Cue influencers getting to undulate/

******

- When Life Gives You Tangerines (2025)