You content yourself with many;
Dancing on the edge of a knife
Is that really all we are to you;
Stepping stones on your way across life?
You must get off on the juggling act;
We are supposed to be a secret after all.
So easy to have no attachments.
Until your charm causes a girl to fall.
It may be that you want my body,
‘Til when from only my plate you’ll sup
You will not again from me partake.
Oh, baby, please grow up.