Faster

It's getting hot in here. The sound is dripping from the walls like the sweat that lies drying in your bed. Red hot distortion for your red hot lips. I drive this sound thru the air and thru the walls of this studio and into the streets that frame the things I tell you when we wake, weaving our souls closer and closer until you know who I am and still you beg me, for more, until the sound falls from the sky and into the sea and thru the streets that frame the things I will tell you tomorrow. I drive this sound so fast I want to burn the air into submission and make it promise to never leave your lungs. We are made of glass but I will hold us to the sky and never let go. I drive the sound faster. It's getting hot in here. You tell me you own everything you touch. I smile. You own me.