but fact is that my belly's cold
when I receive her call
Her hand's unusually warm
thus much of me is melt'd away
Her solitude makes me suspect
that's she'll end up with big fat cat
Her simple lust makes me deny
that she, one day, cannot be mine
The way we play with our hands...
I overestimate
When it is said and it is done
there's nothing else to say.
