All It Takes Is A Pink Wig

I keep thinking about her especially when I see pictures of her with a pink wig on. She looks like a femme fatale. And I keep thinking I should give in, and stop the resistance. Maybe the last scorched remains of my sexuality are reactivating. I guess it's worth a shot. I don't even try anymore and that's how it should be. I can't be hopeful because I never hope at all unless I'm expecting the worse. If she put the pink wig on maybe I'd feel a flame or two of passion. If she swings, who knows if the pain will sting.....she's already paralyzed me when I look into her eyes.

And all it takes is a pink wig. Who'd have thought a wig would make things sexy again? It's not as if we're making radical changes. Maybe I should get myself a new syrup should the time arise when we play new games. Every picture close up, every pore. Clean beauty that does not cheapen. Looking for the rarity one by one. Looking for the rarity to keep with the fun. Love is almost kind but almost always blind. When you start to see, you know it's over and picking apart the fine pieces is to throw away everything you ever wanted and more

Shush! Somehow I always get the picture of a murderous vamp. Keep leading me, keep leading me. It's worth our while and I'll follow your trail by the bodies you pile in the bag. I'll follow your trail by the bodies you pile in the bag. Take a drive by the sea and dump the remains in the river.

And all it takes is a pink wig and my imagination goes wild. Start the scene of something new and we'll be off and away on a brand new day. But who knows what this kind of love can do? Just want a healthy illusion. Just want a healthy delusion. All it takes is a pink wig and I can say I'm yours.