Slow dance with me
at 3 a.m
to the sound of rock and roll,
keep up with me if you can.

The notes of your guitar,
the way you play your song,
your hand between my thighs
makes my flower grow.

Messy black hair,
cigarette smell,
sweet ***** lips,
enchanting me under a spell.

****** friends,
he sits and stares.
Burning smoke through my throat,
he doesn’t even care.

Motionless wrapped in your arms
Is this another way of suicide?
He’s making me drool all over the place,
fast calloused fingers through the strings with grace.

Sitting on his lap,
I can hear his heart.
He could soften mine,
fill that missing part.

Black and blue,
I don’t want to know
who you’re playing songs for
late at night tomorrow.

Cause I’m only for fridays,
I’m only for fun
but it hurts so good,
I adore when he’s bad.