Westheimer

 

It’s late and the lights are dim
She licking the salt off the rim
She’s been gone for a while
And the feeling is making her smile
Grinding hard, this is lust not love
You’d be wise not to confuse it
She’s not looking for commitment
You’d be wise not to choose it
The room starts to spin, enjoy the ride
You feel the alcohol rising inside
You’ve had too much
You’re starting to lose touch
The song keeps playing
She has no intention of stoping
You’re trying your best to keep up
On the dance floor barely awake, body rocking

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