In the cupboard under the stairs or,
On the roof looking at the stars.
Is it the same or just some mad mad game?
When you get that feeling inside, when the doors open wide
and you invite me in to partake in what is great.
Let me be your lover, your book that you open every night to a new page.
Farenheit 451 is the temperature when books burn, I can bring water to douse the flames or wood to fan them higher, you decide.