Unplugged Ipods and Hooker Boots

Lyrics:

Unplugged Ipods and Hooker Boots

Blankets mountainous
at the base of a double bed,
inside the threshold of this hotel suite,
kicked down by two obsessive back streets.

Who made carrier bags an art form
holding unplugged iPods and hooker boots.

Anxious missed calls from
your tarmac relationship,
delay any attempt at detonation.
The pulse of a vibrating phone
only increases the frustration.

Within the negative space between your legs,
kneeling and part-dressed
I take control of your wayward hair.
I say "focus your vision here."

Where air-conditioning softens every sound,
the depth of field shortens —
closing in
(closing in)
Friction doesn’t burn it smoulders.
(smoulders within)

“Look into my eyes,” I say.
“Look into my eyes.”

Your arched back before me.
sits like an Egyptian cat.
Brushes, circles,
wrapping parts around me,
touching what you covet.

Crimson sheets darken as moisture taints.
Power rushes,
promises remain.

Where air-conditioning softens every sound,
the depth of field collapses —
closing in.
(closing in)
Friction burns and smoulders within

suburban right angles form,
forcing your gaze to my face.
cubist exhales.

Once tensed, I'm held upright
by your breathlessness —
modernist veils.

Where air-conditioning softens every sound,
the depth of field shortens —
closing in
(closing in)
Friction doesn’t burn it smoulders.
(smoulders within)

The remainder of us laid out
silently,
between involuntary jolts —
what’s left of us released
onto these sheets.

onto these sheets.
© 2006 Shuttle Weaver. All rights reserved.

Lyrics written by Barry Weldon.

Видео Unplugged Ipods and Hooker Boots канала Shuttle Weaver