Sticky with champagne. It's okay, it's her birthday, sticky. . Her lips are always open and bloody red. Bloody trying to get us all in her bed. In her head she hears a hundred songs that I wrote say.
Dance me face to face. While I finger your ribcage. Dance me face to face. While I finger your ribcage. . I've got a filthy mind, love. She's got those laser light gloves.