This whisky tastes like an old acquaintance; this Otis Redding song sounds just like an old friend. And this dim old apartment feels like home, and all my needs feel like they don’t exist. I’m waiting for you. Just waiting for you.
This white pillowcase begs for my head. This skin begs for a skin. And I’m waiting for you. Just waiting for you.
This rock and roll is really old and you can tell its rock and roll if it is really old. That’s what I always said. I never cared what anyone thought in retaliation.
So what’s it gonna be tall stranger? We just don’t have very much time. You won’t know what your missing if you miss this because this is something sublime.
I do the twist. I do the bare foot. And normally I grind my ground alone but tonight I wouldn’t be opposed to a little bit of you.
A little bit of you could go a long way. You’re a long sort of man. A little bit of you seems so unlikely to go the wrong way. How could I screw up something that sweet?
I wouldn’t. I’m only a girl. I’ve got a lust for what’s tender and a lust for what’s sentimental and a lust for what happens when skins touch in the night.
Just some thoughts.
the poet cant help it, she's just her sassy self.