I was created to be a lover in a wasteland of souls,
My tits on his back can’t make him feel whole,
His touchz, his lips, burn me, set me on fire,
His touch is not truth, fuck feelings, they lie,
Beginning as friends, just confuses the facts,
He says that it’s him but I know it’s his mask,
He’s worn it so long, does he know what is real?
Run by his demons, determined he’ll fail,
We find comfort in Hell, we don’t know how to trust,
Scratch my nails down his back, controlled by my lust,
Conflicted and cold, won’t feel something again,
Disconnected and bold, naked thoughts, skin on skin,
Crawling to him on hot coals, alive from the burn,
I give in, he gets lost, left me waiting for my turn,
Hypnotized by his voice and the taste of his tongue,
Loyal to only to pain, loaded, ready to run,
Soaked and stained by the past, our sins never come clean,
Rip me to peiced, pronounced dead on scene.
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