| You crave, burn, yearning try to adjust me. Concentrate harder caress my eyes, ears with your voice, 1000 horses tug on your jeans. Whisper something about the color green, it won't make me want you. But you crave so hard, so bad, wish I had 100 of your hands 2000 of your lips running themselves over me. If I see you now, I'll close my eyes and let it happen. Touch your skin, my love ... taste you through my fingertips after I close the door. | |