Kevin GranttLesile Winn Satcher

Arms, strong as timbers

Folding around her like velvet

That's the fine art, of holding a woman

Eyes, that never leave hers

Fingertips that whisper

That's the fine art, of holding a woman

Without reason, you kiss her, just to breathe her

Without words, you tell her, that you need her

When you part, you always leave a fire burning

That's the fine art, of holding a woman

That's the fine art, of holding a woman

And only moments after loving her

She can see that you still want her

That's the fine art, of holding a woman

Without reason, you kiss her, just to breathe her

Without words, you tell her, that you need her

When you part, you always leave a fire burning

That's the fine art, of holding a woman

That's the fine art, of holding a woman

That's the fine art, of holding a woman