Not shy of a spark
The knife twists at the thought that I should fall short of the mark
Frightened by the bite, though it's no harsher than the bark
The middle of adventure, such a perfect place to start
I'm going back to 505
If it's a seven hour flight or a forty-five minute drive
In my imagination, you're waitin' lyin' on your side
With your hands between your thighs
But I crumble completely when you cry
It seems like once again you've had to greet me with goodbye
I'm always just about to go and spoil a surprise
Take my hands off of your eyes too soon
I'm going back to 505
If it's a seven hour flight or a forty-five minute drive
In my imagination, you're waitin' lyin' on your side
With your hands between your thighs and a smile
(rka)
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