The bed's a mess When we're finished and at rest And I can just see the post fuck flush across your chest The telly's silent The room's lit only by the screen And now we're perfect moulds With just our pulses in between Well, I'm not listening to what my mother said What we're doing inside my bed And I'm not pretending this time you're someone else But I'm cleaning these sheets all by myself Afterwards is best You get up to get dressed I think your pants are by the door I think tomorrow we might be sore Even in this light, your tits look white against the tanning And I know we're a couple now 'cause We went down the Family Planning It hit me in the waiting room Waiting for you when you were getting what you need But I can't help be a bit disappointed when you start to bleed Afterwards is best You get up to get dressed I think your pants are by the door I think we might be sore