Sexting

Sexting... It's the next best thing
To physical contact, whimsical want ads are depressing
That's why I contract my smart phone
And start the night alone, undressing

Caressing myself and my virtual keyboard
Expressing my wealth of verbiage, be warned!
I can do what I please once conversation seems sore
Converting my pleas into a Plesiosaur

Bringing words back from the dead, extinct!
Typing, idling even though my breath stinks
She'll never smell it from my grill as I expel it
I can form-aldehyde my pride by auto-check-spelling it

"Boobs" become "Broods"
"You" becomes "Used"
"Slap" becomes "Scrap"
And I leave her confused

Her "Kiss" becomes "Crisp"
And "Tits" become "This"
WTF? How does "Penis"
Become "Phoenix?"

These wrists are well trained in more ways than one
Left hand on my phone, right hand on my junk
I'm the middle man between our two data plans
I'll use a semi-colon and a parenthesis to make her randy

There's something that turns me on
Hands are shaking, it won't be long
I sent a text but babe it sure is getting late

Don't keep me up all night
You know just what i like
Proper punctuation and strong emot-ication

Nothing better than what we've got
One and one, you do the math
And I can hit on you while I sit on my ass

Things are gettin' hot and heavy
I'm stocked up a with a straight chub, cocked and ready
In my basement rocking a face-plug, tossing confetti
Once I climax, I'll bust a lot of spaghetti

I'm a slave to the smart phone, instagramming
A picture speaks a thousand words ad my hands are clammy
"Touch sensitive" has to stand for something
The text that she hands me has me handy, get it?

Yeah I took there, it's a party up in here
Her messages straight stand up my fur
The steam on the mirror reminds me of her curves
Read the sign on the door, "DO NOT DISTURB"

There's something that turns me on
Hands are shaking, it won't be long
I sent a text but babe it sure is getting late

Don't keep me up all night
You know just what i like
Proper punctuation and strong emot-ication

Nothing better than what we've got
One and one, you do the math
And I can hit on you while I sit on my ass



Credits
Writer(s): Timothy Munson Stiles
Lyrics powered by www.musixmatch.com

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