Foreign Devils on the Silk Road

Fool, you left the camels bleeding... bleeding,
waiting for me in the scorching hot sun. Warm. You're swelling like a thumb... dying.
Fool, my legs are torn and scratched and needing... needing needing the help of your soft sticky hands.
Warm. They watch us with their syrup slow eyes. Warm.
Just pretend you don't see their bleeding brown warm legs.