That Friday night at Ian's,
the dark Atlantic ocean of bodies
flowing, pulling me from place to place,
"Tainted Love" crashing on the rocky shoals of my ears.
Left ashore by the bar, I sat alone.
The Atlantic parted, and there you stood:
my beautiful blonde Moses.
You took my hand and lead me out,
as you once lead your people so many years ago.
I've left him for good you say, leaning in
for a kiss that burns like fire.
Cigarette smoke and Swiss Army assault my nostrils
and I think I've found God.
As the dream fades, a slight moan escapes,
and I am pulled back away.
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