A/N: This is at least a year old, but I forgot about it until today.


Sing you songs of heat and dirt
Not words of superficial sweet
This world's no place for naivety
And sex on the beach gets sand in your pants
So fuck the man, I'd rather hold your
Sweaty trembling hand
Kiss me, Judas, you'll be my end

(chorus)
Hey, every rock star needs his muse
I saw you standing there in your red Dorothy shoes
And I'm only half-sorry this ain't a valentine
Your eyes still have that post-sex shine
But I think I'm going home with you
Yeah, I'm going home with you

Head-bang in your underwear
Records play static and Billy Holiday
Songs of gin and tragedy
I'm your David, I'm your Goliath
And you say this world's too small for me
Your boy of broken dichotomies
(Death is only grass and leaves)

(chorus)

And I'll regale you with tales of Araby
In the heat there's less room to breathe
And under the bowl of the sky we'll be less alone
We'll spend a thousand nights in Araby
I'll wish I could give you more than me
And drunken messages on the phone

Hey, every rock star needs his muse
I saw you standing there in your red Dorothy shoes
And I'm only half-sorry this ain't a valentine
Your eyes still have that post-sex shine
But I think I'm going home with you

Yeah, I'm going home with you


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