Object desire
Fools, playing with wrapping paper
Their fucking hands
Always reaching, groping
At any gift left unattended
Minutes or moments
So eager to put their dick in something.
Object desire
The commodity of breasts
Given scarcity
Gives birth to desperate men
Pants and small throbbing cocks
All riot and unrest.
Tell me, tell me, tell me
Make me feel like a man
Tell me, tell me, tell me
Baby, tell me I'm in demand.
Object desire
All the plastic people
Prophylactic discourse and desperately
Talking each other out of their clothes
All the pretty girls
Sitting behind window sills
Wondering if they're people too.
Object desire
The innocence afforded
By being half aware and cheap
My conscience is low
But confidence is high
So baby, let me take you home tonight.
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