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This is a song I wrote for my girlfriend — for her birthday — when I was really poor and didn't have money for a traditional gift.
She wouldn't listen to it. Then broke up with me months later because "there's just no spark anymore."
So now this song is for all you **steemy** singles out there ;)

Stay zesty, my croutons.
One day, may all of us meet the true dressing for our salad.
Or at least some tasty veggies.
Idek where this analogy is going... or what it's conveying...
It's out of control...
I can hardly beLEAF it.
I'll show myself out.

**Lyrics:**

"I woke up this morning and I was so hard.... pressed to remember the dream that I had last night.
Where you went down on.... to the living room, where I felt up the felt on the edge of your blouse.
I thought we could just stay at home all day, make the bedroom feel like Rome... and play.

So did you.

Oh won't you sit right on my face-s can be hard to read.
Sit right on this chair, so I can draw you Naked... is the name of my favorite drink.
I can't wait to get up in your pink....sheets.... of paper on the floor, cut into hearts — as I try to keep your's close to mine.

I got some roses for your box of flowers.
You keep my buoy floating with your ocean powers.
I'd park my car in your garage, show you the 50 states.
The birds and the bees, heat seeking missile into your cities.

I love it when you give me head... on to the market while I put rose petals on the carpet. So love drunk I'm lethargic.
I've got a big erected admiration for your hot little cinnamon buns that you bake so well.
If we were mountain climbers, I'd slip into your crev-"Is this the way?", I would ask. You're too kind to say I'm lost, but I know I am.

So how do I say?...

I got some roses for your box of flowers.
You keep my engine revved up to a hundred ninety nine miles an hour.
I'd park my car in your garage, show you the whole f—king world.
The birds and the bees, heat seeking missile into your cities."

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