She waits 'til oh-so-late for your call Then she comes a-running Face down in your lap so many nights But this could be the last or only More than a thought, less than a person I know I'm lucky to be Held like this whenever you want me Sweetie, I'm your property Eight years and you two still do this But pleasure shoots outside time Your fuck hovers still, above your biographies You're turning thirty (cling to the bed, cling to the bed) More than a thought, less than a person I know I'm lucky to be Held like this whenever you want me Sweetie, I'm your property One of your whores (I won't ask for more) One of your whores (I won't ask for more) One of your whores (I don't think very much of myself)