Take your weight off of me. Picking up a pen, scrawling notes to remind myself of songs worth singing suited to my voice, to the mood, to the energy of the crowd and I just can’t get it back. Not like that, you’re living in a North Dallas suburb, but I ain’t no pretty boy, where summer sure does take a bite but I am a man who likes the heat. Roasted brown surrounded by practically unclad beauties, take the cold and keep it, the way you move, soft and slippery.
Lord Malinov, Song of Songs