From Your Lips I Draw The Hallelujiah

It's as easy as it's always been
to keep you wrapped around my little finger.
Needless to say, difficult.
You play a hard game, like an unpredictable hand of blackjack.
But I learned long ago how to count your cards.
It's a waiting game, for when you get anxious again.
Or, more likely, when you get that hunger only I've been able to satisfy.
What's funny is you no longer make me meek.
I'll blatantly give you the once over while your eyes dart over me.
Admit it.
Our little secret is the silent talk of the hall.
And nothing is more passionate then something forbidden.