COMMUNION (Falsetto Service)

[Verse 1] I'm a chef with a mission, I only cook low, face-first in the kitchen where the honey pots flow. I butter the biscuit, then I split it in half, lick the cream from the center, take my time with the craft. She's got a peach so ripe it's dripping off the vine, I bite the skin real gentle, let the nectar hit my spine. I stir the pot counter-clockwise, slow simmer on the heat, she grabs the tablecloth screaming — compliments to the chef who eats. --- [Verse 2] I'm a gardener by trade, yeah, I tend to the rose, part the petals with my fingers, put my nose where it grows. Water the orchid with attention till the stem starts to shake, prune around the little bud until the whole flower breaks. She calls me her sommelier, I swirl before I taste, press my lips against the goblet, never let a drop go to waste. The restaurant is closed tonight, reservations — table for one, I don't stop licking the plate clean until the dessert is done.