Definately not my best, but it's not horrible. :/.
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The tempations we give to our selves are too much. you're too much for me, that is.
The air's turning to coals with your fresh breath and I've forgotten what the meaning of living is. The innocence is ripping our breaths away
and I think I might like it this time.
Hold me, and I'll hold you.
This chill.. it's smothering my veins, but it's an inviting suffacation. I can feel your breath reaching around my shoulder, but I've forgotten which way to turn to find you.
I wouldn't trade this for the world.
I forgot to ask long ago if you liked the taste of being lost. You always seemed a wanderer to me, but it suits you so perfectly. Like the uninviting perfection that your breath doesn't awaken me with.
You're certainly not my perfection.
Baby, I wanted to remind you: I could hold you in my arms, but merely these words whispered in your mind and those arms around your waist; they're nothing compared to how much I could make you sway.
Teach me, baby, and I'll teach you.
Our temptations are moving the stars and the moon's getting jealous; he needs our love, but we promised him we'd be back after we're done. Of course, being the wanderers that you and I are, we'll stay trapped in these arms forever. And when we're done -- baby, hold me, and I'll hold you.