I never could refuse a drop of red
to wash down evenings thick with stress and strife -
I never did believe that love is dead,
but love can never quench my thirst for life.
Warm lips are fine, and roving, needy hands;
there's satisfaction in a single night.
I never cared much, though, for one-night stands,
when hundreds of forevers hover right
beneath your skin. Before the sun appears,
I'll hush your frantic heart and drink your fears.