giovedì, febbraio 20, 2003

Something 'bout the way your hair falls in your face
I love the shape you take when crawling towards the pillowcase
You tell me where to go and
Though I might leave to find it
I'll never let your head hit the bed
Without my hand behind it

Damn baby
You frustrate me
I know you're mine all mine all mine
But you look so good it hurts sometimes

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