the function of the orgasm

Its half past eight, and
Im waiting
In a beautiful place
Anticipating everything well do
And all well say
Till your
Father sees you again
Now I dont know just what youre doing
Is it me or him
That youre screwing?
But I dont care and you dont care
When Youre
Here Now the storm is here
I see you running
Your face full of tears
So red and burning
And I cant work out
How you spend
Another day with him
Just say the word
You know Ill do it
Im waiting for you
Just let me do it
And we can run away to another place
Less Full
Of fear