Better than the blogs your mother used to make.

I Think You're Sexy


I think you're sexy
I think you're hot
I think what I feel for you, I feel quite a lot
Because I think you're sexy

I think you're gorgeous
I think you're sublime
I think that I think about you all the time
Because I think you're sexy                

Because I think you're sexy
Sort of Posh, sort of Becks-y
Oh and how it affects me
In ways no one expects me
To get all muscle-flex-y
And to puff out my pecs-y
When the mirror reflects me
I think you're sexy                                      

I think you're sexy
I think you think it, too
Cos in every shiny surface a sexy me sees sexy you
Because I think you're sexy

Every mirror, every puddle, every slightly polished brass
Every photo, every spoon, and every well-lit piece of glass
You've got a sexy arse

I think you're sexy
And I think you think it's wrong
But what's wrong is just the inclining that this thinking took so long
Because I think you're sexy

Should I not think you're sexy?
Why does this thought perplex me?
Why fear someone detects me?
Or just barely suspects me?
We should be X-O-X-y
Our love huge and T-Rex-y
Like that hot liewe heksie
We should think that we're sexy

I do
It's true
Sexy one
Meet sexy two
Such a sexy, sexy you

Sometimes, when the lights are low, and the violins are high
When our love sets stars aglow, when we're lost from eye to eye
I say the words I know I feel, I say them soft and true
And from somewhere behind the mirror, I hear you echo "you're sexy" too