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the rise and fall of my sloppy love.
Dreams die in car crash; see page Z29
rooftops and invitations; all lace and secret places
The first time you looked
at her curves,
you were hooked;
and the glances you took
took hold of you,
and demanded that you stay,
and sunk in their teeth,
bit you hard
and released;
such a charge
that you need:

another touch,
another taste,
another fix.

She just might get you lost,
and she just might leave you torn;

but she just might save your soul:
if she gets you and she,
gets you any closer.

She leads you up;
points out skylines and stars,
steeplechases and bars,
and took your keys,
and demanded that you stay.

The city longs well for
rooftops and invitations;
all lace and secret places.

She moves you to touch
with her hands.

And she just might get you lost,
and she just might leave you torn;

but she just might save your soul:
if she gets you and she,
gets you any closer.

Under the cool sheet,
where the welcome touch
of skin and skin
will meet;

hot on the inside
where the girl's prize is
at the tip of your tongue.

Where every move
and each impulse
brings clarity;

to stay like this
is everything
you'll ever need.

She just might get you lost,
and she just might leave you torn;

but she just might save your soul,
if she gets you any,
if she gets you any closer.

She just might get you lost,
and she just might leave you torn;

but she just might save your soul,
if she gets you any
closer.

Can you believe
your eyes?





 
 
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