We'll go out east to where the sun meets the theater
you'll give me un-dialated eyes and an unfiltered mind
but all i can do is touch your hair and massage you calves

unending appreciation to you for your effort
undeniable passions lie dormant within inexperience
while the back-up causes my clothes to explode

gentle touches accentuated by sudden movements
predictably brought on by surprising pleasures
i can only look for so long

once my hand reaches your face, your eyes go from blue to brown
your room goes from new to familiar
and my hands stop trembling and go sane.

Now Playing: Stereolab - "The Flower Called Nowhere"