I am indeed every man’s dream
Love and lust, I do seem to blur the line
Typified – a body that cries out to be touched entirely
A mind which must be soothed too
I’ve put the fire inside of a hundred-and-one bellies
Quite literally
I do pity the ones who have lost out, never enough man about them
Minds sent packing
They settled down their very own suitcases in the first place, not me
If I had my way I’d do it all over again
Here I lie, my own mind dry and free inside of a book
Manicured feet catching the air of a room that will wait for no-one
Feel free to place a knock upon my hotel door – come!
As little as three thousand euros and I too can be yours