So, baby boy. Ultimate cool kid. Why did you give the likes of myself the time of day? That cheeky grin, that fleeting glance. Why do you listen to my words with a sweet naive anticipation that speaks to years of a childhood crush, evolved into a night time lust, shared between pictures and words whispered beyond the witching hours.
They say we could be Hipster Royalty. The total power couple, licourice cigarette in hand, lust thrown over your shoulder like a beaten up leather jacket you picked up from that LA thrift store last summer.
Before you say anything, before you deny this kiss' worth, look at my lips, hold your mouth to mine. Taste my breathe, my scent and golden lust. Kiss me until I've forgotten to breath. Kiss me as I suffocate in your passion, kiss me until you hold a sweet, gentle corpse of lust in your arms rather than the fragile being I had pretended a lifetime, to be.
They say we could be Hipster Royalty. The total power couple, licourice cigarette in hand, lust thrown over your shoulder like a beaten up leather jacket you picked up from that LA thrift store last summer.
Before you say anything, before you deny this kiss' worth, look at my lips, hold your mouth to mine. Taste my breathe, my scent and golden lust. Kiss me until I've forgotten to breath. Kiss me as I suffocate in your passion, kiss me until you hold a sweet, gentle corpse of lust in your arms rather than the fragile being I had pretended a lifetime, to be.
