Baptists Don’t Spend Their Time Thinking About

There Is Something About You That Makes Me Feel Terribly Wicked. You Make Me Want To Do Shocking Things. Maybe It's Because You're So Proper. Your Necktie Is Never Crooked, And Your Shoes Are Always Shiny. And Your Shirts Are So Starchy. Sometimes When I Look At You, I Want To Tear Off All Your Buttons. Or Set Your Trousers On Fire. I've So Often Wondered-are You Ticklish, My Lord?

I Want Morning And Noon And Nightfall With You. I Want Your Tears, Your Smiles, Your Kisses...the Smell Of Your Hair, The Taste Of Your Skin, The Touch Of Your Breath On My Face. I Want To See You In The Final Hour Of My Life...to Lie In Your Arms As I Take My Last Breath.

Be Careful Dear That You Don’t End Up As The Queen Of A Lonely Kingdom

What You Should Really Be Sorry For," He Continued, "is That For The Rest Of My Life, I'll Have To Avoid Wine Cellars To Keep From Thinking About You." "why? Was Kissing Me That Bad?" A Devil-solf Whisper. "no Sweetheart. It Was That Good.

Can't You Just Tell Me Now?" "no, I Need Someone To Eat With." A Slight Smile Rose To My Lips. "am I Supposed To Believe That I'm Your Only Option?" "no. But You're My Favorite Option.