Filthy Jazz for Clean Sheets

Dim the lights, pull the shades,

I brought my sins and satin blades.

Record spins that dirty brass,

You pour the wine, I fill your glass.

Fresh sheets folded, hospital tight,

But we won’t need ‘em after tonight.

You stretch out, all limbs and heat,

To the sound of filthy jazz for clean sheets.

Filthy jazz for clean sheets,

Midnight rhythms in silk repeats.

You moan like a trumpet, low and sweet,

While I play that groove between your beats.

Candles dance as our hearts compete,

To filthy jazz… for clean… clean sheets.

Tongue like a brush on canvas skin,

Each lick a note, each gasp a win.

No need to talk, your hips confess,

Every secret in your Sunday dress.

The snare snaps, your back does too,

Movin’ like vinyl warmed by dew.

Darlin’, you’re a symphony in heat,

Beggin’ for filthy jazz on clean sheets.

Filthy jazz for clean sheets,

Where the soul and the sweat both meet.

We don’t play nice, we play complete,

Every note soaked in body heat.

No halo here, no holy feat —

Just filthy jazz… and clean sheets.

You said, “Don’t leave a mark,”

But I left a verse in the dark.

From clavicle to the tips of your feet,

I wrote sonnets all over your clean sheets.

Filthy jazz for clean sheets,

Our lust pressed down in vinyl repeats.

Let the bed squeak in backbeat bleats,

While we groove where the angels retreat.

Yeah, baby, we’re sinners elite —

Just filthy jazz… on clean… clean sheets.

No regrets, no morning shame,

Just notes and names we never tame.