Wrong So Wrong - Eleanor McEvoy

I’m guessing his lips

Would brush off my cheek

Before meeting my mouth

Leaving me weak

I’m thinking he’d kiss

Sweet and slow

It’s a taste of a kiss

I never can know

'Cause it’s wrong

So wrong

To want his touch

His fingers are skilled

They’d help me unwind

And I’m trying to sweep

Them out of my mind

The strength in his arms

It’s easy to see

And I may get a feel

Of that strength on me

But it’s wrong

So wrong

To want his touch

And it’s bad

So bad

I want it so much