On being a sexual tornado

When you get inside my cone, baby, and you feel that wind, baby, and it’s whipping you up, baby, and it ain’t cooling you, baby, it’s hotting your trot, baby, and trees are flying by, baby, and it’s getting dangerous in there, baby, because it’s really windy, baby, look out for that roof, baby, my sex just ripped it off, baby, and it’s tossing it around, baby, like an infant in a hot tub, baby, with its jets on maximum blow, baby, better get below ground, baby, because we’re at maximum alert, baby, the governments on the radio, baby, yellin’ at you to take shelter, baby, ’cause shit is getting intense weather-wise, baby, because I’m wind, baby, dirty, dirty wind.