Wet Rhythm (4:53)

In that square-inch meeting place, all senses are infinitely magnified, the viscous liquid becomes the most honest accomplice, emitting a slightly shameful silky sound with each deep thrust and withdrawal, like the tide in a swamp, repeatedly pulling and submerging the sanity of the two. All words seem pale at this moment, leaving only this most primitive rhythm called desire, completely sewing the souls of the two in the wet sounds.