it's cold and dark and calm outside
so you make sure that i'm tucked up tight
but i need fresh air so the window is open ajar
whilst there in the corner lays a battered guitar

i'm high as hell so you carried me home
and wrapped me up into a bed of your own
you throw a lumpy mattress by the guitar on your floor
and apologise in advance for the fact that you snore

because i can't even remember my name
may give the green light to most, to see me as 'fair game'
my hair is a mess and my clothes are askew
but that doesn't seem to matter to you

i'm taken aback as you toss me a shirt
you try to stifle your laugh but i catch you smirk
as i try to escape from the clutch of my dress
i hear a laugh which you fail to suppress

i wrestle your shirt with my limbs in a tangle
you yank it over my head, for which i am thankful
i wriggle free from the blanket and sit up cross legged
as you fling yourself down at the foot of your bed

you tell me you've just got a text from my mother
who says she trusts me with you and no other
and that you are under very strict instructions
to keep me away from all teenage destruction

it's 1.30am and my thoughts are cotton wool
but our bottle of ***** is still three quarters full
my eyes spy the battered guitar in the room
and i beg you to play me my favourite tune

an undeniably slow start as you mess up the chords
and ramble on about how i'm probably bored
but my eyes fix on yours with an encouraging grin
and as you continue to play, goosebumps rise on my skin

and as you place the battered guitar back down
you sarcastically ask whether i'm happy now
the buzz of my body and the smile on my face
shows that here, happiness is truly the case