My hands still smell like gasoline.
You said that every night with me is like Las Vegas
Color me neon glow flattered
With a smile like phosphorous
And enough attraction to make you forget the rest of the world.
Whatever happens with Vegas;
Stays with Vegas.
You’ve rode along my streets.
Known me to strip in front of complete strangers
But save you the private show.
Every day a gamble between open tables and full slots.
A rhythm all our own.
There is a dance floor that knows us by no other name than lover.
A gas station that knows us as potential pyromaniacs trying to find our way.
Flesh flammable as we light our path.
My hands still smell like gasoline.
Maybe I’ve thought too much on what combustion is yet too happen,
This disbelief in geographic ordnance.
I’m Vegas.
Your sin of a city.
You; Judaeo-Christian lifestyle averting your gaze.
You had the good fortune of not falling for me;
You should never fall in love with Vegas.
A city with building taller than your ambitions,
signs brighter than your vision.
no wonder you cant see us together.
Its easy to get caught in the spectacle
Our circus circus act;
Clowning around as we talk in circles,
All made up and full of fun.
But apply soap and see…
This is make believe.
A desert oasis surrounded by sand
I am merely a man.
Phosphorous fading to yellowed teeth
Tartar tarnishing my broken smile.
A strip of dominoes falling away from your admiration.
We are gasoline soaked hopes;
Any spark between us would destroy our intentions.
So…
Are we not worth the gamble?
Rolling the die and letting the vapor linger.
Love is a game of chance
And here, losing is not an option…
You know the rule,
Whatever happens in Vegas…