I’m so sweaty at this club so I go to the back to cool off for a bit. You ask me for a smoke, I ask your name, you ask what I want to do with you and I push you to wall and let my fingers do the talking. We walk down the street, you’re already pulling off my leather jacket, we get a hotel room where we shread our clothes and smash the place up.
This is the song when we smashed the lamp.
Detroit (Ghetto Edit) by The Bloody Beetroots
