Monika XYZ - One, two, three

I raise my glass across the floor, you nod back once,
Then check the door; he doesn't know what you came here for.
You look at him, you think of me; it is my name,
You bite behind your teeth.
You take his arm, you count to 3, you look at him,
You think of me.
He smells like cedar and sweet champagne; he talks too loud to cover up the strain.
His right hand settles on your bare waistline; you flinch one inch because that grip is mine.