The Shape of Your Dress

I am undeserving of the chords that grace my ears and your hair that falls just past your chin, oh I’m looking for you, why don’t you come and lead me to your bed? Kiss my legs and sing the praises of another body - words that express the divine shape of your dress. How solemnly it drapes across your neck and down your wasit. And all the lies we’ll let trail behind us: they’ll only thicken the lesson in the end. Oh, come and lead me to your bed. These sheets, they cannot lie. Come and lead me to your bed.