The lips that lied painted pictures as they pressed against my ear, in a seductive voice they painted memories before they happened. I kiss the lights goodbye as the voice lullabies my mind with its colorful words and tasteful untruths. The lies didn't taste like cake, they weren't sweet against my taste buds, but lustful; like fatty pasta drenched in a delightful cheese. That kind of lust. That kind of guilt. That kind of pleasure.
And so, little ears, be careful what you see, and big ol' brain, be careful what you taste.