You don't have to speak to be sexy

...

Em branco

Tempo passa.

Because tomorrow I don't know

She drinks like there is no tomorrow.

She starts out with just a few beers.

The few turn in too many.

The many turn into one too many of them.

Her mind is settled.

Nothing else matters now.

She just wants to dance and sips oh just another drink.

Oh, you're paying, great!

Thank you.

She dances. She dances. She dances.

Screaming conversations in between dancing sceneries.

Music pumping, music she doesn't even like.

No, she's liking it. She moves like she's alone on the floor. 

Everyone that passes by is exchanging looks with her.

Her eyes wander between being closed and piercing other's eyes.

That look she does when wanting to kill. 

She kills, she knows she does. 

And it's all just for fun. 

Looking down, closing her eyes, she smiles. 

No, she doesn't care about anything right there and then. 

Blood? No, her body is now moved by alcoholic transparency. 

X-rays would glow.

No, no shame at all.

Come on people. You love it too.

Oh, this song is just what she needed now.

This song and those eyes.

Those eyes and those moves.

Those moves and that hand on her hip.

That hand on her hip and that smile.

That smile, the looking down, the looking up, the proximity, beat after beat. 

Closer and closer, they kiss. 

Dancing, swaying touches, mind blowing kisses. 

Slowing down, looking at each other.

Holding hands, it's time to go. 

Passing the dancing crowd. Oh stop, I just need to kiss you one more time. 

Blinding desire exploring the now found killer chemistry.

What a killer...

Pushing each other against the streets walls.

Moonlight watching. 

Should I go or should I go?