With a leaf of the cucumber, in the watermelon patch, a kappa I wonder. Or, A tooth mark on a cucumber, in the watermelon patch, by a kappa I wonder.
His pole, supporting by my cleavage, in the night with shame.
And with my thumb impression, by two red lines crossing off, extinct you will.
A fatherless child, a letter the crazy lady threw, knowing who she is.
At out of the window, on whose cheek gazing, crimson blotch there is.