Saturday night and the throttle is stuck open again
AKA Too much is never enough
from 
JoeUser Forums
JoeUser Forums
It seems like one door closes, and after it's been closed a while, and you've kicked it a while, and then you walk away, and start going outside, well, then another door opens. By then your foot hurts, and you're pretty pissed off about the whole situation.
So, what do you do?
Sweet sweet kisses all night long... it is what i want... someone with some sugar on their tongue to counteract the sour notes in my mind...
kisses like electricity
kisses like surprises wrapped in insistent questions about forbidden topics
kisses like heat lightning
...
if i really had hope i would wait forever for that special love
but despair crushes aspirations
and loneliness is too intense sometimes
...
trying to rise above, what would the southern belle do?
i think she would swoon on a sultry summer night
and awaken unaware of the night's transgressions
or maybe she would not transgress? Transgressing isn't a southern belle thing to do...
on a sultry summer night the belle asks for a cool creme de menthe
and sits quietly on the porch fanning her loveliness in the pale moon light
awaiting a rustle in the branches
and the whispered words carried in on the hot humid wind
...
and never leaves her chair except to bestir herself into the dark inner recesses of the house
to return a few moments later, more langorous
and more mysterious still...
So, what do you do?
Sweet sweet kisses all night long... it is what i want... someone with some sugar on their tongue to counteract the sour notes in my mind...
kisses like electricity
kisses like surprises wrapped in insistent questions about forbidden topics
kisses like heat lightning
...
if i really had hope i would wait forever for that special love
but despair crushes aspirations
and loneliness is too intense sometimes
...
trying to rise above, what would the southern belle do?
i think she would swoon on a sultry summer night
and awaken unaware of the night's transgressions
or maybe she would not transgress? Transgressing isn't a southern belle thing to do...
on a sultry summer night the belle asks for a cool creme de menthe
and sits quietly on the porch fanning her loveliness in the pale moon light
awaiting a rustle in the branches
and the whispered words carried in on the hot humid wind
...
and never leaves her chair except to bestir herself into the dark inner recesses of the house
to return a few moments later, more langorous
and more mysterious still...