Why do I still RIBBON?

Just something I came up with in the middle of a French summer night...

Why do I still RIBBON?

Elephant eggplant on the tip of my shoe lace,
Why do I still wonder at the sight of your face?

Tarantulas climbing on my cinnamon toast,
Why do I still marvel at those feats that you boast?

Milky oil drops staining the crumbs of my skin peal,
Why do I still sing my love as if it were real?

Skeletons dancing on the meadows of my lust,
I wish my absurd longings would turn to disgust.