[00:09.836]Kyrie suggested we go for a drive in her new 2-door BMW coupe
[00:14.015]In the parking lot, we slipped into her bucket seats
[00:16.549]Kyrie took over from there.
[00:19.553]At nearly 90 miles per hour she zipped us up to that windy edge
[00:22.505]Known to some as Mullholland, that sinuous road running the ridge of the Santa Monica Mountains
[00:26.815]Where she then proceeded to pump her vehicle in and out of turns
[00:30.316]Sometimes dropping down to 50 miles per hour, only to immediately gun it back up to 90 again
[00:35.383]Fast, slow, fast fast slow
[00:38.309]Sometime a wide turn sometimes a quick one she preferred the tighter ones
[00:42.332]The sharp controlled jerks, swinging left to right before driving back to the right
[00:46.302]Only so she could do it all over again until after enough speed, and
[00:49.228]enough wind, and more distance than I had been prepared to expect
[00:52.598]Taking me to parts of the city I rarely think of and never visit...
[00:55.471]Hey pretty
[00:57.666]Don't you wanna take a ride with me?
[01:01.689]Through my world
[01:04.118]Hey pretty
[01:06.887]Don't you wanna kick and slide
[01:10.884]Through my world
[01:13.836]I can't remember the inane things I started babbling about then, I know it didn't really matter, she wasn't listening
[01:18.329]She just yanked up on the emergency brake, dropped her seat back, and told me to lie on top of her
[01:22.665]On top of those leather pants of hers, extremely expensive leather pants mind you,
[01:28.412]her hands immediately guiding mine over those soft, slightly oily folds
[01:32.173]Positioning my fingers on the shiny metal tab, small and round, like a tear
[01:35.961]Then murmuring a murmur so inaudible that even though I could feel her
[01:39.775]lips tremble against my ear, she seemed far, far away
[01:43.380]Pinch it, she said, which I did, lightly, until she also said pull it,
[01:47.063]which I also did, gently parting the teeth, one at a time, down under
[01:50.459]and beneath, the longest unzipping of my life...
[01:52.627]Hey pretty
[01:54.926]Don't you wanna take a ride with me?
[01:58.844]Through my world
[02:01.744]Hey pretty
[02:04.043]Don't you wanna kick and slide
[02:08.040]Through my world
[02:10.991]Hey pretty
[02:13.212]My pretty baby
[02:16.738]Rock it through my world (through my world)
[02:20.082]Hey pretty (Hey pretty)
[02:22.407]My pretty baby
[02:25.751]Rock it through my world (my world)
[02:29.538]We never even kissed, or looked into each other's eyes, our lips just
[02:33.013]Trespassed on those inner labyrinths hidden deep within our ears,
[02:36.095]Filled them with the private music of wicked words
[02:38.472]Hers in many languages, mine in the off-color of my only tongue, until
[02:42.469]as our tones shifted and our consonants spun and squealed, rabbled faster, hesitated, raced harder
[02:48.686]Syllables soon melting into groans or moans, finding purchase in new words, or old words, or made-up words
[02:55.582]Until we gathered up our heat and refused to release it, enjoying too
[02:59.057]much the dark lane which we had suddenly stumbled upon
[03:02.035]Prayed to, carved to, not a communication really, but a channeling of
[03:06.267]our rumored desires, hers for all I know gone to black forests and
[03:10.237]wolves, mine banging back to the familiar form, that great revenant mystery I still could only hear the shape of
[03:16.480]Which in spite of our separate lusts and individual prize, still
[03:19.380]continued to drive us deeper into stranger tones, our mutual desire to keep gripping the burn
[03:24.369]Fueled by sound, hers screeching, mine... I didn't hear mine, only hers, probably counter-pointing mine
[03:31.344]A high pitched cry, then a whisper dropping unexpectedly, to practically
[03:35.524]a bark, a grunt, whatever, no sense anymore, and suddenly no more curves either, just the straightaway
[03:42.211]Too bad dark languages rarely survive..."
[03:48.977]Das nicht zu Hause sein x2 (= there is no house in german)
[03:51.511]Ba da da da (da x 8 echoes)

Kyrie suggested we go for a drive in her new 2-door BMW coupe
In the parking lot, we slipped into her bucket seats
Kyrie took over from there.
At nearly 90 miles per hour she zipped us up to that windy edge
Known to some as Mullholland, that sinuous road running the ridge of the Santa Monica Mountains
Where she then proceeded to pump her vehicle in and out of turns
Sometimes dropping down to 50 miles per hour, only to immediately gun it back up to 90 again
Fast, slow, fast fast slow
Sometime a wide turn sometimes a quick one she preferred the tighter ones
The sharp controlled jerks, swinging left to right before driving back to the right
Only so she could do it all over again until after enough speed, and
enough wind, and more distance than I had been prepared to expect
Taking me to parts of the city I rarely think of and never visit...
Hey pretty
Don't you wanna take a ride with me?
Through my world
Hey pretty
Don't you wanna kick and slide
Through my world
I can't remember the inane things I started babbling about then, I know it didn't really matter, she wasn't listening
She just yanked up on the emergency brake, dropped her seat back, and told me to lie on top of her
On top of those leather pants of hers, extremely expensive leather pants mind you,
her hands immediately guiding mine over those soft, slightly oily folds
Positioning my fingers on the shiny metal tab, small and round, like a tear
Then murmuring a murmur so inaudible that even though I could feel her
lips tremble against my ear, she seemed far, far away
Pinch it, she said, which I did, lightly, until she also said pull it,
which I also did, gently parting the teeth, one at a time, down under
and beneath, the longest unzipping of my life...
Hey pretty
Don't you wanna take a ride with me?
Through my world
Hey pretty
Don't you wanna kick and slide
Through my world
Hey pretty
My pretty baby
Rock it through my world (through my world)
Hey pretty (Hey pretty)
My pretty baby
Rock it through my world (my world)
We never even kissed, or looked into each other's eyes, our lips just
Trespassed on those inner labyrinths hidden deep within our ears,
Filled them with the private music of wicked words
Hers in many languages, mine in the off-color of my only tongue, until
as our tones shifted and our consonants spun and squealed, rabbled faster, hesitated, raced harder
Syllables soon melting into groans or moans, finding purchase in new words, or old words, or made-up words
Until we gathered up our heat and refused to release it, enjoying too
much the dark lane which we had suddenly stumbled upon
Prayed to, carved to, not a communication really, but a channeling of
our rumored desires, hers for all I know gone to black forests and
wolves, mine banging back to the familiar form, that great revenant mystery I still could only hear the shape of
Which in spite of our separate lusts and individual prize, still
continued to drive us deeper into stranger tones, our mutual desire to keep gripping the burn
Fueled by sound, hers screeching, mine... I didn't hear mine, only hers, probably counter-pointing mine
A high pitched cry, then a whisper dropping unexpectedly, to practically
a bark, a grunt, whatever, no sense anymore, and suddenly no more curves either, just the straightaway
Too bad dark languages rarely survive..."
Das nicht zu Hause sein x2 (= there is no house in german)
Ba da da da (da x 8 echoes)