Odd that with all my sins, her believing that about me bothered me the most.
So, I’d taken this rare afternoon and evening off to work on the song. It was almost there. I might even be able to perform it in two nights at the Verve, my next booking. Depending on if we could get in a practice first.
I’d been working with the same set of studio musicians since this whole rollercoaster had started, and we were finally developing a rapport. The drummer had heaved his stick at me and nearly poked out an eye when I’d criticized his timing once or twice—or maybe five times—but that had been a minor skirmish. I’d apologized to him by buying him breakfast after a long night of practice. All was now forgiven.
That was the nice thing about working with people as poor as yourself. It didn’t take much to impress them.
I tapped my pencil against the pad in front of me.
I’m not the one you can bring home.
Not to Mum, not to Dad.
I’m far too good to be bad.
But they don’t know, can’t know, how I could make you scream.
In my dreams.
Oh, in my dreams.
Take this man.
Take this woman.
I won’t ask for your promises.
Can’t make them myself.
I’ll be gone tomorrow.
But I’ll be here tonight.
All night.
For you.
Inside you.
Inside you.
Oh, yeah, inside you.
In my dreams, you’re mine.
In my dreams, you don’t turn away.
You look at me and see what you want.
What you’ll take.
When I give.
Give for you.
In your dreams, you see me too.
Just look.