Nasty
I feel nasty, now that I'm done.
You don't know it, but you're the one.
I am with him, but you are near,
Tickling my thoughts and teasing my fears.
I don't know why I feel this way,
But I like it. What can I say?
I leave the room, before I come.
Slinking, I whisper—
Do come and get some.
I'm playing with fire and feeding the flame.
And when it's over, tell me,
Who'll be to blame?
I don't know why I feel this way,
But I can tell you I'm glad I came