"The shadow of our past,
Project on clouds of dust and gas
The ones where my eye will rest
A Silhouette of loneliness.
If you see these tears fill in my eyes
It's just the wind that makes me cry
If you could feel this pain inside
It's just the drinks we drank last night
It's just the drinks we drank last night..."
So the hours that follow after midnight,
we've decided to toast and drink away to our departure.
Dancing. under the blanket of heavy beats is inevitable.
Now how the hell did this lead to walking into the arms of an unknown stranger
and allowing him to touch me all over?
I felt no connection,
except a playful desire to keep him attracted;
I didn't want him in particular.
How good would it be, if we had this kind of bodily contact?
I want you only,
but you're never here.
What am I 'sposed to do?
B.
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