I am thinking of you and your bed.
I am saying what shouldn't be said.
And then you roll over
And call me your clover
And then all my memories are dead.
I am thinking of us on your bed.
You are reading what needn't be read.
It's you that I want
You call me a ****
And, with a boot, kick me in the head.
I am seeing you on your bed
I am gone, your hand's there instead.
Your mind opens up
Overflowing your cup
And *** on my chichis instead