Affectionist Perfectionist.
Close the curtain, shut the door
They pretend that this isn't much more
Than a peck on the lips, a friendly hello
They just pretend and take things slow
A gripping of the bedsheets
A tearing of the clothes
A kissing from the partner
A moaning at the toes
"I love you", he says
She whispers the same thing
Not what he'd expected
He'd expected just a fling
But here they both are,
Curled into eachother
Affectionist perfectionist
Lover next to lover
The cold dark night
Is almost coming to an end
In shines the light
Making kisses quickly send
She says she'll see him soon
She blows him a sweet kiss
He puts it in his pocket
He's really going to miss...
Her jacket's on her back,
Her shoes are on her feet
What he doesn't realize
Is that it is her heart's last beat
For this man she'll love
She'll love this man no more
After all, it was only a fling
And now she's out the door
He's expecting her again
Just in a few more hours
She's out with other men
He's picking her some flowers
He sits and he awaits,
Roses in his clutch
It doesn't seem a whole lot
Like she cares all that much
It's almost eight o' clock
The evening's winding down
He throws the roses in the trash
While looking like a clown
They pretend that this isn't much more
Than a peck on the lips, a friendly hello
They just pretend and take things slow
A gripping of the bedsheets
A tearing of the clothes
A kissing from the partner
A moaning at the toes
"I love you", he says
She whispers the same thing
Not what he'd expected
He'd expected just a fling
But here they both are,
Curled into eachother
Affectionist perfectionist
Lover next to lover
The cold dark night
Is almost coming to an end
In shines the light
Making kisses quickly send
She says she'll see him soon
She blows him a sweet kiss
He puts it in his pocket
He's really going to miss...
Her jacket's on her back,
Her shoes are on her feet
What he doesn't realize
Is that it is her heart's last beat
For this man she'll love
She'll love this man no more
After all, it was only a fling
And now she's out the door
He's expecting her again
Just in a few more hours
She's out with other men
He's picking her some flowers
He sits and he awaits,
Roses in his clutch
It doesn't seem a whole lot
Like she cares all that much
It's almost eight o' clock
The evening's winding down
He throws the roses in the trash
While looking like a clown