I'd give you my last ciggy
Without shadow of a doubt
Because hearing you sing Ziggy
Is what love is all about

My muse.
The fuse
to the fire in my heart-
A most eternal flame.

I prefer the way you feel between my thighs than inside my head.

It's somewhat funny
But it's also somewhat sad.

I can be surrounded by dozens of people, family, friends...
Yet feel so alone.
So empty.

Or I can be with you.
Only you.
And my world is complete.

Crazy am I driven by the idea,
the possibility,
of another's kiss on your collarbone.
I recall St Valentine's Day,
when your **** Jagger lips told me
'I'm yours'
with such sincerity
and that I could hold you to it.
And I will.

Does she listen to your stories and then pretend to care?
Do you make that moaning sound when she plays with your hair?

Does she hang out with your friends and has she met your dad?
Does she hold you oh so tightly whenever you get sad?

Does she let you keep her awake with your snoring?
Does she know how you like your tea?
And that it's coffee in the morning?
And which mug you like it in?

Does she know you listen to Green Day when you brush your teeth?
Does she know you like your teeth?
And that you hate the rest of you?

Does she notice the scars on your arms?
And then does she wrap you in her's?
And does it feel the same?