Author: Cristina Monet

You ask me if I’m loving you at last

Will I be yours, forget the past?

I say you’re going kinda fast

What can I do? I wish you wouldn’t ask

Don’t rush me—don’t crush me—

don’t crowd in on my space

Change down to first gear—I’ll be here—

slide in at my pace…

Oh hey, come on now please don’t go

I really didn’t mean that slow

My mother said I shouldn’t let it show

When I mean yes—I’m still saying no

Discussions—decisions—

they just cramp my style

Don’t ask my permission—

don’t put me on trial

Just hold a gun to my head

I only follow where I’m led

You’ve got to call the shots

You’ve got to hit the spots

Just hold a gun to my head

And so at last I think it’s understood

I wouldn’t leave you if I could

I always know that I’d be good

Once you were doing what you should

You’re coming to conquer—I’m sensing 

your steel

I get not leisure for pleasure—It’s explosions 

I feel

Just hold a gun to my head

I only follow where I’m led

You’ve got to call the shots

You’ve got to hit the spots

Just hold a gun to my head