I'm a lover of the fine arts,
Bad boy lover of the refined sort,
Hands all up under your blouse and down in your shorts,
Neck back, arched spine for the start,
Knees weak, legs already apart,
I got you dripping, leaking out your thoughts,
Your actions telling me things you never talked,
This connection have me in places I never dreamed I could have walked,
You got me helpless like a prey being stalked,
Yet only bliss in these remarks,
Your eyes tell I'm leaving my mark,
Yes this grip you have just might take a piece of this heart...