Top Shelf Baby

You’re swagger that slays me

But baby, back down from the top shelf.

We’re driving too fast past

the city lights because you just like to hear me scream.

I know the way you need me without the frills of wealth,

I don’t need big carats or trips to Tropez

Because I have you in your vintage Vuarnets, peeping at me over the tops.

Come down under the covers; let’s dive away within one another.

We’re the same when my cedar skin’s mixed with old money.

There’s nowhere to hide and I’m too poor to lose;

But let’s be real,

It’s a sugar high when you crash into me.