The bed's a mess   When we're finished and at rest   And I can just see the post fuck flush across your chest      The telly's silent   The room's lit only by the screen   And now we're perfect moulds   With just our pulses in between      Well, I'm not listening to what my mother said   What we're doing inside my bed   And I'm not pretending this time you're someone else   But I'm cleaning these sheets all by myself      Afterwards is best   You get up to get dressed   I think your pants are by the door   I think tomorrow we might be sore      Even in this light, your tits look white against the tanning   And I know we're a couple now 'cause   We went down the Family Planning      It hit me in the waiting room   Waiting for you when you were getting what you need   But I can't help be a bit disappointed when you start to bleed      Afterwards is best   You get up to get dressed   I think your pants are by the door   I think we might be sore