“I didn’t choose the nude life,

the nude life didn’t choose me,

the nude life is but what I am.

 

Been rocking out with my cock out,

since I can even remember.

Been lettin my nuts sway

in the wind like it was nothing,

since osh kosh bigosh.”

 

He was even more nude, back then.

He was a little kid, plus,

he knew less worth hiding.

 

Poor flesh man, you know it’s not

shame that gets to him.

It’s his pride.

Fleshman knows he’s a great one.

They don’t call him flesh man

for no good reason.

The man is always naked.

 

It’s

Point is

it changes, and grows all the time.

Nudity changes with every challenge.

 

It’s like they always say

“This is the last time, fleshman-

We’ve been here now too many times.”

They say this every time.

 

But fleshman always gets his way.

He disappears from from time to time

not because he’s been taken away;

No one can clothe him but himself;

he’s too elusive, despite his uncouth timing;

because he’s busy streaking elsewhere.

 

“When the weather gets cold,

the orange grove has my soul.”

You gotta be in denial or something

if you really believe fleshman

refuels his fire.

 

Fleshman always has his fire.

It’s only a matter of

if he’s there.

But no matter where he is,

he’s fleshman somewhere.
Flesh man is a real legend.

He’s back before we know it.

Honestly only bitches believe in fleshman