Won’t you tell me why your kisses taste so bitter in summertime?
And your touch, why does it sting like bees in the daylight?
Tell me why your smile is pouring off your bones and dripping off my toes?
Why your breath is contagious, your stare infectious?
These pins in my pores don’t hide the venom in your veins, or the acid on your tongue,
but your fingers make me dance like a voodoo doll
taking in the pain, taking in the applause
and bowing for a glimpse of your smile.
While you, your satisfaction comes in knowing that all the dancing
will always amount to nothing.