I wanna have sax with you again.
You trumpet my mind away.
I miss how the tips of my fingers press every single one of your keys causing you to vibrate
Then I’d strum a handful of your strings, getting amped up for you to scream
Do you remember the way that your ***** felt due to the stroking of my trombone?
This is when your harps start to beat excessively
And mines was on the same bass
You would always turn around so I can use my drumstick
You’d think I put my foot it in.
I recall how you catch rhythm quite splendid each side clapping tambourines.
I inquired, you’d choir
****, our orchestrated erotica
Now do you understand why your name is logged into my phone as Harmonica?