Dashing (Rondine)

Run your finger along my arm
While on the loveseat we waited
Our love could not be abated
Wanting to raise no alarm
We lowered our level of charm
Keeping others from harm
But our loving fire was unsated
As Moon begin to cry

Tapping your finger in alarm
Into the back room we faded
The nearest room we raided
Almost arriving belated
It seem more than just fated
As we began to slowly warm
Away from the raging storm
As the moon began to cry