| Bronze on gold and gold on red
|
| Drag me down to your ocean bed
|
| Sing your air and reel me in
|
| The sweets of sin will soon sink in
|
| Bronze on gold and gold on red
|
| Drag me down to your ocean bed
|
| Sing your air and reel me in
|
| The sweets of sin will soon sink in
|
| As she lies on the rocks
|
| It’s nature she mocks
|
| With her skin of silk
|
| Balmed with honey and milk
|
| I’ll approach her cliffs
|
| Movement like hieroglyphs
|
| I’ll sink down to her riff
|
| For a single whiff
|
| Majestic but poisonous
|
| Villainous yet harmless
|
| Ambigue to the bone
|
| Disown disown
|
| With my salted soul
|
| And my pickled skin
|
| See I dozed, overdosed
|
| And went over the rim
|
| Bronze on gold and gold on red
|
| Drag me down to your ocean bed
|
| Sing your air and reel me in
|
| The sweets of sin will soon sink in
|
| Bronze on gold and gold on red
|
| Drag me down to your ocean bed
|
| Sing your air and reel me in
|
| The sweets of sin will soon sink in
|
| Bronze on gold and gold on red
|
| Drag me down to your ocean bed
|
| Sing your air and reel me in
|
| The sweets of sin will soon sink in
|
| Bronze on gold and gold on red |
| Drag me down to your ocean bed
|
| Sing your air and reel me in
|
| The sweets of sin will soon sink in
|
| And the sweet taste of forbidden fruit
|
| Soon becomes sour
|
| And the heat and haste of forgotten youth
|
| Can come as a cold shower
|
| Months awake won’t go to bed
|
| No matter what’s the hour
|
| So sirens sing me on the rocks
|
| To withstand, not within my power
|
| I see the girls with the curls in their hair
|
| I see the girls wearing pearls and I stare
|
| In a waking state things might turn out to be a nightmare
|
| But you with your flair make it easy to bear
|
| Beauty and delicacy I head for the epiphony
|
| But what I find just leaves me dry and unsatisfied
|
| Bronze on gold and gold on red
|
| Drag me down to your ocean bed
|
| Sing your air and reel me in
|
| The sweets of sin will soon sink in
|
| Bronze on gold and gold on red
|
| Drag me down to your ocean bed
|
| Sing your air and reel me in
|
| The sweets of sin will soon sink in
|
| Cradle me now spontaneous host
|
| I’ll admit to my foul
|
| Find me on the coast
|
| I’ll be biased by beauty
|
| And highly esteemed esthetics |
| Blinded and bulged
|
| The watchful eye on the aerie ethics
|
| My degracing locus is the facing focus
|
| Of the formidable and faccital fracturing of my frames
|
| A roach to be squashed
|
| Or pooched and gracefully hunted
|
| The outcame stays the same
|
| Yet the grace is what I wanted |