How good it must be
In your bed
Let me slip beneath the pile
The sky tells me nothing worthwhile
It will rain again it said
And me so alone in my bed
I think of people of my years
Who take wives, husbands, or lovers
For their stormy nights ahead
How good it is
In your bed
How the feathers are so snug
I would enter like a drug
If you weren't so noisy right
Too many sermons in the night
Are you scared of me touching you?
Open your sheets
Shut your mouth too