Blonde hair is your trigger, it turns you into a desperate little slave. They way it catches the light and represents divine pure perfection. This belief has been inside of you your whole life. So as I sit here and brush it, teasing with it, you can't help but become captivated by the mane of blonde on my head. They way it twirls in my fingers, how I move it, how I primp. Even the hair caught in my brush makes you ache, it's impossible not to want to touch yourself to my blonde crown
