you swashbuckling, sensual, soothing scoundrel
what would you want with this washed up mongrel?
scruffy and messy, i trot around
showing off because i'm too proud.
and you know what? what i have found?
i'm somehow still standing on solid ground.
i'm cool, collected, but i flirt a lot
only a little tempted by what you got.
i won't slip or stumble anywhere near you
i'll bide my time & this'll have to do
not that i'm settling, or accepting less
but please take a look at this unruly mess
you've made by giggling at me
by teasing, by probing, can't you see?
i lowkey adore and could handle you
i'm throbbing and pulsing, right here for you.
i don't mean to make it complicated
so we have to keep this regulated -
i'll stay in my corner, i'll smile and write
and you'll shine over there, just a tad too bright
and when i emerge to see the light of day
i won't be silence by what i have to say
cause unfortunately when i bleed words , it gushes forth
unfortunately, you're the one, my glorious true north.
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