Your hands trace down, I forget my name,

Every touch is gasoline to the flame.

First night fever, bodies collide,

Naked truth we can’t disguise.

Moans are rising, breath runs thin,

We’re fluent now in the rhythm of skin.

Taste of sweat, the heat we make,

Every thrust a wave that breaks.

From the rush when we first explore,

To the craving when I beg for more.

It’s the art of love we live within,

From spark to storm, in the rhythm of skin.

I know the spots that make you lose control,

The secret ways that open up your soul.

Tongue on tongue, we don’t pretend,

This language only lovers understand.

No shame in the lust we claim,

Every whisper fuels the flame.

Taste of sweat, the heat we make,

Every thrust a wave that breaks.

From the rush when we first explore,

To the craving when I beg for more.

It’s the art of love we live within,

From spark to storm, in the rhythm of skin.

Tie me down or set me free,

Tell me the kink you hide in secrecy.

Every fantasy we bring to light,

Turns the darkness into pure delight.

Taste of sweat, the heat we make,

Every thrust a wave that breaks.

From the rush when we first explore,

To the craving when I beg for more.

It’s the art of love we live within,

From spark to storm, in the rhythm of skin.

So listener:

If tonight you’re restless, lost in desire,

Light your own touch, set your body on fire.

Let your hands be the guide, let the pulse begin,

Pleasure’s waiting — in the rhythm of skin.