Scream for me,
Tell me that it's good,

That you like my hands,
The way they brush over your delicate skin,

How they make you slowly close your eyes,
Lose yourself in mine,

How my praises take you to Havana,
Right to the edge of Savannah,

I'll tell you I like your apple taste,
Your melodic chase,

The way your hips chase my hands,
Drives me insane,

When your hands go up to your mouth,
The way you try to wiggle,

Out of my adrenaline drug,

I'd say pathetic,
But you like it like that.