The Function Of The Orgasm

It's half past eight, and I'm waiting

In a beautiful place

Anticipating everything we'll do

And all we'll say

Till your father sees you again

Now I don't know just what you're doing

Is it me or him

That you're screwing?

But I don't care and you don't care

When you're here

Now the storm is here

I see you running

Your face full of tears

So red and burning

And I can't work out

How you spend

Another day with him

Just say the word

You know I'll do it

I'm waiting for you

Just let me do it

And we can run away to another place

Less full of fear