Pitt-er Patt-er on the window sill.
As the rain droplets fall and turn to ice in the frigid air,
You pluck at your guitar strings with wild care.
The frenzy of notes you play make me dance with hungry rhythm in my hips,
And I can't remember the last time I tasted hot sugar on my lips.
If only your fingers could play me like that guitar,
Maybe I could run from this place, run so very far.
Maybe I could be your musical weapon or magical muse
I could be your tiger, your fire. Please light my fuse.
I want you to inspire me, make my dead heart beat
As if blood still pumped through this bag of meat.
Bend me, fold me, as long as I can create
Beauty from life before it is much too late.
Touch me, let me wonder as I wander through
This deep forest comprised of only you
Your hot breath, smooth skin, radiance and desire.
Let me be your muse, let me be your fire.
And maybe there'll be hope for me still.
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