Do you really expect for me to ask you for a dance
When you’ve got fire in your hands?
You’ve got fire in your hands
I would like nothing more than to get closer but I can’t
Cause you’ve got fire in your hands
You’re scary, I cannot speak
But wine will do it for me
Should it say more than it should
Please don’t put the blame on me
Editing sober what I wrote while drunk
Makes me want to cut off my tongue
Drunk, I forget it’s not good
To bring up literature
You’ve only read one whole book
And you hate Holden Caulfield, well I guess you’ll hate me too
Come Sunday, there will be sand in my mouth
And a strong urge for writing but nothing about
I think I can take two more Sundays but then
I’m taking the Hemingway out
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Kamikaze Prom Night Lyrics – Tequila Mockingbird