And brings a fever, a dream of sweat and ecstasy.
A kiss on every hammer hit that follows as the keys fall down
And bring an order first, then chaos, then a calm,
That paints every shift in murals on the wall.
And it presses to your neck,
It clutches to your hips,
Softly sings to you of fireworks and God and art and sex and it’s strange
That it feels so right when nothing else does.