|
Bury me |
|
Like dangerous waste. |
|
I'll lay dormant |
|
For a thousand years. |
|
But it's like dismantling |
|
A decommissioned spacecraft. |
|
Some parts you can't destroy. |
|
She fidgets too much. |
|
I've got a bee in my bonnet. |
|
Stay aspirant |
|
To avoid accident |
|
On my return |
|
I will smother you. |
|
In everything that I've learned |
|
Until you turn blue. |
|
Now is never a good time |
|
When you're ready to engage. |
|
My newsprint fingers are turning a page. |
|
Oh, she fidgets too much. |
|
I've got a bee in my bonnet. |
|
Soon enough our lips will linger |
|
And you start to pull away |
|
But before this chance is torn asunder |
|
Your hips begin to sway. |
|
The penultimate clinch |
|
Lasted the longest |
|
It's the penultimate clinch |
|
It was the warmest |
|
A deliberate pinch |
|
Sounded the warning |
|
Of a prudish flinch |
|
I found it appalling |
|
Oh, the penultimate clinch |
|
Lasted the longest |
|
It's the penultimate clinch |
|
It was the warmest |
|
A deliberate pinch |
|
Sounded the warning |
|
Of a prudish flinch |
|
I found it appalling |
