well, woman the way the time cold i wanna be keepin' you warm
i got the right temperature for shelter you from the storm
oh lord, gal i got the right tactics to turn you on, and girl i...
wanna be the papa, you can be the mom....oh oh!
around the corner from my house is an elementary school. when i sit in my office, inhaling the glorious scent of lilac or honeysuckle, i can always hear the gleeful screams of kids running rampant in a well-worn play yard.
of late, the soundtrack to recess has been the same two songs, played over and over again: "hips don't lie" by shakira and "temperature" by sean paul. it's gotta be at a healthy volume because i can hear [all the shocking lyrics] perfectly. i really want to go over there and see what accompanies the tunes. i envision a sort of bollywoodesque choreographed spectacle -- boys in the required giant baggy jeans and voluminous white t-shirts and girls in tighter versions -- all pulsating rhythmically in time.
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