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Navy blue eyelines cross a navy blue set |
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A temporary slip of the push-pinned memory hypochondriac |
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But I am the pornography that makes you breathe |
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That makes you feel |
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Feel alive and shudder to think |
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What it's like, oh what's it like |
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And I can't even tell where your fingers end and mine do begin |
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For I can't |
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But this could be the kiss that all others yet to come in life will be judged by |
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I apologize for that strap slipped right down your shoulder baby |
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I apologize because |
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I tried my best |
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I tried my best |
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But I am the pornography that lets you believe |
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That lets you taste |
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Taste the life and shudder to think |
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What it's like, oh what's it like |
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And I can't even tell where your fingers end and mine do begin |
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For I can't |
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But this could be the kiss that all others yet to come in life will be judged by |
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Wait don't you die for me |
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Just go This is a world that |
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I feel I frustrated with my soul |
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Let us define, let us define |
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This is a world that |
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I feel I frustrated with my hope |
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But I won't give in |
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Allow me to run my fingers gently up your spine |
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Across your shoulders, down to your clavicles |
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As we are breathing as one together |
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The movement starts here |
