What I Do When You're Not Looking I will dream of you in the day time, riding the indulgence of your

sweet kisses. I will wait to wrap my arms around your waist, to sail my hands around the curves of your body and slide my lips wherever it is their pleasure to roam on your luscious form. Until then, I will be content with inverse matrices, paleoanthropology, symbolism and poor, dead Franz Ferdinand, none of which will ever match the story your mouth tells me as it glides over, slides over, rides over mine