The Function of The Orgasm

It's half past eight And I'm waiting in a beautiful place Anticipating everything we'll do And all we'll say, "Till your father sees you again" Now I don't know just what you're doing Is it me or him that you're screwing? But I don't care and you don't care When you're here Now the storm is here, I see you running Your face full of tears so red and burning And I can't work out how you spend Another day with him Just say the word, you know I'll do it I'm waiting for you just let me do it And we can run to another place Less full of fear