One toothpick stirs your drink, a bottle holds my hand. One flicker of your finger, and I stand. You stroll towards our man as if nothin' had been said, as if chapters still were waiting to be, read. As if leeches ever fixed the one they, bled. As you pull down your dress my head's a mess and was stumblin' Took the tears in my eyes, as I move up your thighs.