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?