The Violet Hour

Your lips are nettles Your tongue is wine Your laughter's liquid But your body's pine You love all sailors But hate the beach You say, "Come touch me" But you're always out of reach In the dark you tell me of a flower That only blooms in the violet hour Your arms are lovely Yellow and rose Your back's a meadow Covered in snow Your thighs are thistles And hot-house grapes You breathe your sweet breath And have me wait In the dark you tell me of a flower That only blooms in the violet hour I turn the lights out I clean the sheets You change the station Turned up the heat And now you're sitting Upon your chair You've got me tangled up Inside your beautiful black hair In the dark you tell me of a flower That only blooms in the violet hour In the dark you tell me of a flower That only blooms in the violet hour