Under the sheets

“You only care for me when we’re no shirt and no denim”

The only way I can make you want me is to be under the sheets.
You’d never say hello to me first if you saw me at the streets.
Or would you? Would I mean something to you if not my body, not my lips?
Could we have a different story, but not the separate “hers” and “his”?
 
Bullshit. Bullshit. Bullshit. Please!
We’re up and down. Up and down... I’m on my knees.
My body’s in heaven, but my eyes are wet, and my heart bleeds.
Cause baby, your love, not your hands - that’s what my heart needs.
 
Tell me, what is the last time you asked me how I been?
Your tone is always cold, and your sentences are dim.
You only care for me when we’re no shirt and no denim.
Baby, for me to call you mine, how many times should I let you in?
 
Am I asking for too much? All I need is to know why!
Why you play so hard to get? Easy to lose and hard to find?
Baby tell me how many times should I beg? Or should I cry?
How many times should I let you in, so I can finally call you mine?
 
September, 24