Gucci Night

I don't need a poet with a pocket full of pretty words and a heart that's always running late

I need a man who knows the price of roses when they're out of season and he still don't make me wait

I like the way the engine sounds when it's brand new and the paint is still wet from the showroom floor

And I like the way you look at me when you hand me the keys and say "baby, this one's yours."

Count it up, watch it shine