I Have a Bony Butt and You're a Dumbass, So Let's Makeout
Location
Flames coursing through my veins,
Earthquakes in my hands,
This isn't from a coffee kick,
No adrenaline rush,
Just you.
Passionate.
Sensual.
Primal.
Like algebra.
You + me = unf some good times,
But this equation has no room for variables like
"We'll be together forever darling"
and "Let's ride off into the sunset"
This euphoric feeling,
Is just physical.
The only things that should be attached,
Are your lips to mine,
And that do not disturb sign to the door handle.
There's a contract, yes,
But the only stipulation
Is that there are no stipulations.
A dizzying paradox
That acts as my saftey net,
So I can never say I'm "in too deep".
It's been a bit of a dry spell
Now I'm single and ready to mingle,
But the only mingling I wanna do is
Between your sheets.
Waiting for a weekly bootycall,
So I can search out,
Nothing more than a carnal desire,
Casting away any semblance of feeling,
For those few,
Blissful, soaring moments.
The radio behind us is asking
Whats Love Got To Do With It?
And my answer is nothing...