WHICH FLOOR

Cigarrettes smoked by the light of a bulb
Words are meant to be said again
Your face, pale white, is blushing at once
Things you’ve said I didn’t hear

Up the elevator
Lusty eyes; no need of translator
Down the elevator
No return; you’ve turned on my crater

Too much warmth, so little the space
Time gets stuck. Yes! That’s my zip
In an out, muy senses blacked out
You made me feel like I was on a trip

Up the elevator
Hardly straightness could have been straighter
Down the elevator
You made me feel, you made me feel I was the fucking master

And I still recall your sweet taste and smell
How could have forgotten the way that you yelled
And I still remember those words I won’t spell
And I still believe when you leave me you got insane

Cigarrettes smoked by the light of a bulb
Words are meant to be said again