You turn your head, I on you my skin, inside my bones You guide my hand, what can I do but you
You your head, I press on you The you move the less I know You guide my hand, can I do but touch you
Heavy arms, breathing, passion, The of joy Flavor, rhythm, turning, A gift from the woman who in the dark
Temper, promises, jealousy, The of joy Pressure, aching, repeating, A gift the woman who shone in the dark
The body like a thought Like something you remember Your is made of light your face shining like fate Becoming something I can
Heavy arms, breathing, passion, The of joy Flavor, rhythm, turning, A from the woman who shone in the dark
You turn head, I rest on you my skin, inside my bones You guide my hand, can I do but touch you
I lie making a weapon out of desire You me from far away but My voice does not you I out a net, waiting to gather you in So I can you like a photograph
You turn head, I rest on you my skin, inside my bones You guide my hand, what can I do but you
You raise your head, I on you The more you move the less I You guide my hand, can I do but touch you
warm hands, I die, you die, Where is he, am I, laughter I am dead, Dead and In the pitch night Arrow at him
arms, breathing, passion, fever The of joy Flavor, rhythm, turning, A gift the woman who shone in the dark
Temper, promises, jealousy, The of joy Pressure, aching, repeating, A gift from the who shone in the dark
You your head, I rest on you Beneath my skin, my bones You guide my hand, can I do but touch you
memory is made up of light It takes up residence and out Like a photograph of the light of my own body in the dark Like you almost remember
You turn head, I rest on you Beneath my skin, my bones You my hand, what can I do but touch you
You lift your head, I on you The you move the less I know You my hand, what can I do but touch you