Saturday


I thought it doesn't get 
Better than this
There can be nothing better than this
Better than this
And we climbed onto the roof, the museum
And someone made love in the glass
And I'd forgot my name
And the way back to my mother's house
With your black cool eyes and your bitten lips
The world is at your fingertips
It doesn't get better than this
What else could be better than this?

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