Usually about an hour long in the night,
my arms hang frail on the wheel
and I'm fine with it.
It's always after a little death has occured- going either with a hush or with a scream- so I'm vulnerable to your charm and the way you get the streetlights on the highway to play along.

This whole production is flattering, but I'm at the point of telling people to stop touching me because this constant eventuality feels too fantastic on the skin.
Don't do the seduction thing.
I can't handle all your erratic emotions- the stars and their sinew, those big sighs and that damn expression.

You look like a classic film actress.

You cry like her too.

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