Heart beating like the RPM of a sleek sexy racing car,
drop the bass
my heart, with you
so fast it's still,
like zero degrees kelvin
and 100 degrees hot
in my pants.
Darling would it be obscene
if I told you that you make me scream?
In my dreams,
in my head
you and me for never dead.
Leaps of faith through hoops of fire don't amount to much my dear
unless you're scorched
and blistered as a tender, succulent pig.
Weee weee weee
all the way home we sing
we drool and chain gang the whole lot of them to the wings of the pretty angel statues,
so rough and hard,
how do they fly?
But we do,
at any given moment, soaring and searching
and we tangle up the tarantulas in their trinity of turbulence
because my god we are for real.