Thursday Night Fever

If looks could kill, if touch caused a seizure - you'd be dead as a rock, no room in the freezer. Tease you with my fingers, squeeze you, 'til you rattle like an engine that's collapsing, gasping out for oil. You nervous? Well you should be. 'Cos you know how jealous I get. As for your new friend, he'll end his days down an alley. Shall he call the law? I doubt it. Curtains closing faster, faster. Turns young lovers to statistics. Nervous? Well, he should be. He can see how jealous I am. Just a jealous boy. Want you safe at home, alone. Ignore the phone, except when you're convinced it's me, inquiring about your welfare. I care about your painting and your poems - love's like that: caring, sharing, on our own forever. And you'll be there when I'm back from work, the jerks who bark their orders, smoulder, leer and patronize. It's insincere. But you'll be there, to comfort me. Comfort me and make my tea, and make me king again. The pain will go away and we'll make plans about our cottage, miles away. No interruptions, us together, never seeing anyone. And if you want to dance, we'll fit the lounge up with a disco, play the stereo, and boogie on our own, alone - the way it's meant to be. (Boogie down.) You're coming home with me tonight. I need you more than he does. You're my girl, you're my girl - I own you!