Satin and Lace on Deck Nine

Deck nine. Midnight. If you're not dressed in satin or lace.

You're overdressed. Stilettos click on the poolside tiles. Glow stick halo frame a wicked

smile. DJ drops heat and the floor goes wild. Rum and cola

got me acting like a child. Short skirt riding when the baseline hits.

Red lips dangerous, talking that shit. Cabin keys swinging on a lanyard chain.

Got no intention of sleeping again. Every light is painting curves in gold.

Every look is saying lose control. Got my body in your favorite view.

But I'm only here to dance, not fall for you, maybe.