You love to dance
And you tell me it defines you
I knew you had told me nothing but the truth
As your body took the reigns and my gaze was glued

You like being looked at
Because the muddy, sloppy side of you kicks in
To you, it doesn't matter who stares
As long as you could get to pull them in

You love the taste of blood in your mouth
But you feel so much strongly for a pair of lips
Crushed against your own
With a pair of hands snaking toward your hips

You don't care about the hands
At least that's what I've heard
But I got the impression that maybe, just maybe
You just need someone to say the word

You aren't valued so well, John
And I am angered by the objectification of you
Maybe, just maybe it could be you and me
We can make it happen if you get the clue