I know, I know…

I know, I know I’m not supposed to think about you.

I know, I know, act natural around you.

I know I’m not supposed to think of your thirsty rose.

I know I’m not supposed to see you when my eyes are closed.

Or run my hands across your skin real slow.

Or think of how we come together and explode.

 

What you know and what you do are two entirely different things. Apparently.

 



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