Please stop telling me that..
Scratch out that twinkle in your eye,
Strip that cunning smile curved from your lips..
Ever so carefully,
Ever so often.

Your velvet finger tips,
Are driving me mad..

But please don't listen,
No, keep that secret to yourself.
And lock your grip tight;
I don't want to feel those finger tips,
I don't want to hear those pick-up lines.

Your tar kisses are shining through again..
They're ripe,
And tough..
I wish you were as vulnerable,
As you make me.

A pause at your touch,
And a smirk to your lips..

Can't you tell that my lip stick is already smudged,
And that my nails are already dull..
From the scratching of your picture
And the tearing of my prayers?

Oh, but I really need you tonight..
And I can tell that from the alcohol coated on your breath,
And from the scrape of your touch,
You'll need me, too..
To keep your ego,
To brag to the guys.

So let me just turn in my bar stool,
While you whisper in my ear,
As I grip my drink a little more tight,
From each pressed kiss,
On the back of my neck.

To strain myself
To hold back,
And throw back another martini.
To grab my purse,
And let you smudge my lip stick..
Just a little bit more.
 
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