I don’t need the light to find where you begin, I want us to know each other, by dancing fingers across our skin. Tracing the maps of every curve and line, Close the distance til your body meets mine. No more metaphors, no more polite restraint, I want to paint a picture that would make a sinner faint. Don't give it to me gentle, don't you go slow, There's a deeper place where I want you to go. I want us to have our own language of percussion, Hips meeting hips, giving into the hunger, Losing control of our lips. I don't want a whisper, I want it direct, My teeth on your shoulder, your breath on my neck. Take me under the current, drown out the sound, I want us to come together, legs tangled tight, Pinned to the ground. I wanna feel the friction, the salt and the sweat, A physical fever that hasn't broken yet. My hands are in riot, your name is my plea, Nowhere else in the world I’d want you to be. I want us to have our own language of percussion, Lips meeting lips, giving into the drillin', Losing control, I don't want a whisper, I want it direct, My nails in your hair, your mouth on my *redacted*. Arching back, matching the rhythm we set to play, Let the marks be our memory, how we spent the day. It's a beautiful ruin, a filthy grace, I want to feel every drop of you coming down on me, Harder, faster, until the dam breaks free, Taking every single thing that you can give. I want us to have our own language of percussion, Hips beating cheeks, giving into the drummin', Losing control, I don't want a whisper, I want it direct, My legs on your shoulders, your hands on my neck. Yeah, give it to me. Leave your mark in me. Language of percussion... Hips beating hips. Breath on my neck. Don't stop...
