OK Computer
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691
I dreamt I was standing in your doorstep
Licking sweat off of your forehead
With your finger in my mouth
And the sound when leather jackets hit the ground
You should hear when you’re not around
When it’s just us horny poets
Who can’t wait to write it down
And swear we were only being honest
Do you like these little sonnets?
‘Cause I wrote them just for you
But how quickly they turn sour
So be careful who you screw
And never call
And I’m starting to suspect
You don’t intend to do anything you say at all
691
You don’t know how long I could stare into your picture
And wish that it was me
I guess it’s different ’cause you love him
But I’ve got an interactive
Sick and twisted imagination
And that’s gotta count for something
