We don't have money
so we can't lose it,
but you touching me like piano keys,
you can't buy that movement.

What do we get from this soft transaction?
We know the money lies
and we can't put a price
on this brand of action.

We're all just selling time.
You got a lot to lose.
The paper is a ticking clock.
You got a lot to lose.

What does it cost for this life of excess?
Would you ever miss your desk's caress?

There is no mouth to
trace its shape on you,
but you seem to let it fuck you anyway.

What you got to lose?