In the heat of the heat,
ask me for the sun.
The X on my chest
Marks the spot.
In the heat of the heat,
ask me for the sun.
The X on my chest
Marks the spot.
Sweet fire chills in my bedroom
cool and
collecting dust.
The jealous window watches me,
tantalized by the molten heat.
Glass in love with fire,
melting in shame and desire.
It happens every day.
I stoke the fire.
Between panes the glass drools.