Wild Women Of Wongo
(专辑: Outside Inside - 1983)
And so on and on the
lores of Wongo go, throughout the
sands of time. Singing their song of love, so rare, To only the
chosen ones who dare. From the
foggy woggy banks of the
Limpopo River, there come the
sounds of Female ecstasy (I shiver), Wet and wanton, their cries caress by swollen ears, with building fears, of this forsaken land of years. Visions of furious fire-goddesses wielding Blunt spits; figments of erotic escapades with all branches of armed forces. Surrounding, abounding, they stoop to conquer with sighs and anxious whispers in a
slow, steady rhythm. Wongo. Wild Women of Wongo. How does their song go? Make a
me wan mo, (Wild Women!) Wongo. No man can say no. Wild Women of Wongo. How does their song go? Like this... On the
dank, steaming shores of Wongo; its black sand beaches so bongo. Patterned with leech-ridden creatures; bodies branded with cicatrix features that once screeched through the
Heart of the
Congo. Stacked and berserk they tower and flail all about. Wailing sounds in tongues only ancient insects would understand or figure out. Wild, willing, wenches; strutting and struggling, as they yank hanks of hair, rooting and rutting in heat, as the
earth heaves beneath their feet. And so on and on the
lores of Wongo go, throughout the
sands of time. Singing their song of love, so rare, To only the
chosen ones who dare. The
course of events, time after time. The
tradition remains the
same. A
bloodcurdling scream, one of pure ecstasy, rings out; then it came The
ultimate sacrifice. Their wasp waisted figures twitch and twine, their sting is lethal, and I
know I'm in for mine. How can I
resist this onslaught of love; from over, from under, from behind and above. I
wish I
could be their Wongo King If only I
knew the
song to sing. Wongo. Wild Women of Wongo. How does their song go? Make a
me wan mo, (Wild Women!) Wongo. No man can say no. Wild Women of Wongo. How does their song go? Like this...