I was sitting on my hands at the top deck of the 178, spitting cusses at my face reflected in the windscreen pane. Throwing insults, and calling names. Filthy SMSs that you sent through the day, by sundown become tame, so I set it in motion again.
But fate's a cruel mistress girl, the prettiest in the world. She dresses loosely in a bath robe with her hair up in curls. 'cause we were kissing for hours with her hands in my trousers, she could not contain herself suggests we go back to her house. But here it comes, this is the crux: she vomits down my rental tux. I'm not sure if it's love anymore. But I've been thinking of you fondly for sure. Remember what your heart is for
By your hand is the only end I foresee
I have been dreaming you've been dreaming about me
And it's a good night for a fist fight because the dew will temper your fall. You'll sing me lullabies in form of yr cat calls.
And I've been dangling in limbo, barely keeping my cool. It's like I'm snookered 'tween the back cushion and touching the eight ball. I keep replaying my turn until your patience is shot. You peel your white gloves off seductively before you respot. Your fingertips, leave marks and graze, I lay you down atop the baize: I'm not sure if it's love anymore. But I've been thinking of you fondly for sure. Remember what your heart is for
Graceful, gracious, companion with your eyes of doe, and thighs of stallion.