Stockings

I don't care for tights, she says and does not tell me why revealing one brown thigh She hikes her skirt above her knee I see, I say, and wonder at her slender little fingers the threads of recent slumbers How cleverly they pull upon and passion does begin? Do you know where friendship ends It's between the binding of her stockings and her skin. (oh yeah) She stayed up so late I thought she'd ask me to go dance told me I had no chance But something in the way she laughed The fiction in her family was that she was never nice I'd say she was very I just did not see the price Do you know where friendship ends and passion does begin? When the gin and tonic makes the room begin to spin. (oh yeah) There may be attraction here So I'm assigned to read her mind, now but it will never flower in this witching hour Here's no game for those who claim to be easily bruised But how can I complain when she's so easily amused? Do you know where friendship ends and passion does begin? (When she does not show you It's between the binding the way out on the way in) -- of her stockings and her skin. (oh yeah