The nights were mainly made for saying things you can't say tomorrow day.
You're rarer than a can of Dandelion & BurdockAnd those other girls are just post-mix lemonade
I doubt it is your styleNot to get what you set out to acquireThe eyes are on fireYou are the unforecasted stormBrianstorm
In my imagination you're waiting lying on your side with your hands between your thighs.