i play connect the dots with your beauty marks
and i ended up with picture perfect sheet music.
i read your musical notes with a composer's eyes
and heard our song for the first time, and my spine is still tingling.
mental images of your fine tune is what i've been nodding my head to lately,
and every now and then you can catch me humming your nudity under my heavy breath.
i heavily suggest you ressurect your ancient neglected dust collector
if you distrust the dissonance in my seldom plucked heart strings.

shit's stripped before your full length,
perform your reflection backwards.
maybe then you'll understand the rhythm in my movement.
listen when the news is sent. extend when the rules are bent.
i'll be waiting to take your lead, make me a victim of your two-step.
make me an apprentice of your body parts.
teach me to dance to your beauty marks.
i'm steppin' on toes here and i don't care.
it's hopeless, it's hopeless. it's hopelessness.
it's hopelessness holding this openness to blow a kiss so close your lips,
but don't get pissed and throw a fist at this vocalist.
i'm not emotionless, in fact i broke my wrist when i wrote the list of all those i miss.
it's my poker face!