Next to you i gasp for air, Red faced with sweaty palms. hopefully, but i'm not sure, that's The kind of guy you want. Kismet thinks i'm gross and cupid is out of arrows I could lend a hand with all of your school work. I'd cut off my hand if i thought you needed more. Talk to me and touch me frequently i'm yours You seem to think that i have nothing Going on, but i'm not so freely Defined; let's see you write a fucking song (I'm sorry that i swore please do not go...) You think all the things i say are tongue in cheek And i wish that i had your tongue so deep inside my cheek Talk to me and touch me frequently. I'll tangle you in doubt and you'll turn me inside out (I'm sorry that i'm weird please do not go...)