Grapes of Passion

Fruits of the vines be it so fine, they reap and then we gather their pleasure

With the Italian flare of bare feet in barrels of wrath as we dance the dance

And laugh the laugh we sing and feel the energy of romance soon to become

The wine of time and money, its cured and aged and bottled in its fancy

With a signature of pride its been grown with the hands and body of woman and man

Who lavishes in it later for a midnight glance of you and a rose upon my table

I will sing to you and you will pour me that drink I can taste it in your stare

On stage I move with my red dress so tight and my lips cherry they thirst

For the Merlot on the table and the appetizer wish I have looked upon you

And now I lick my lips and turn around my leg just quaintly comes over the chair

I pick up the glass as you do so and we click the two together, a fresh basket of fruit

I take a bite and share it then next we kiss with passion of hot mad love in a glass

Our two hands together hold on to another sip with your strong grip I can't wait

To dine