Sophie B. Hawkins. 32 Lines. Zeneszám

I want your hand across my belly
I want your breasts upon my back
I want your pain to rip right through me
I am your death, you are my wrath

I?ll take your hand beyond the threshold
I?ll take your gifts as art of fact
I?ll take your tongue right down to my throat
You are my loss, I am your map

I find your eyes, they give me shelter
I find your lips, they give me peace
I find your need to take me over

Open my heart, I?ll tell you stories
Open my legs, I?ll read your mind
Open my mail, I?ll tell you?re forty
You are my fate, I?m your design

I?ll lead you over, the city burning
I?ll lead you home to province town
I?ll lead you down the soft dunes yearning
You?re my vision, I am your sound

I long to be your handsome woman
I long to feel the crease of time
I long to free Medusa?s stallion
I?m your water, you are mine

I need to carve your face in pavement
I need to die in your embrace
I need to keep a grave engagement
You?re my power, I?m your disgrace