| The lights are on
|
| The tvs off
|
| The floors are fleshy silk
|
| But sinfully soft
|
| Skin glides over silk
|
| Silk glides over skin
|
| The penthouse is alive tonight
|
| Theres people writhing in its veins
|
| Sunken in the masters chair
|
| Lord golds face «a blank survey
|
| Women pleasure men at the wave of his golden hand
|
| And turn to receive as he waves again
|
| The wine is fire
|
| The whiskys full of stars
|
| Theres a deaf mute in a bunny suit
|
| Working the bar
|
| The lovers fuck
|
| They pulse and moan
|
| Passion paying tribute
|
| At the foot of a porcelain…
|
| Sunken in the masters chair
|
| Lord golds faceaE"a blank survey
|
| Women pleasure men at the wave of a golden hand
|
| And turn to receive as he waves again
|
| Still his eyes are like an empty carousel
|
| Promising pleasure but offering none!
|
| She sees him
|
| Watching gazing leering blankly vacant worthless golden perfect
|
| Beyond these walls nothing exists
|
| Here theres flesh + gold and blood in the wine
|
| Outside theres barren emotional landscapes
|
| Here we drink, dream + cum inside
|
| Here theres no pain
|
| Wash off the filth and bring her
|
| Shower her body with julep and incense
|
| Fill her with jewels covered in cum
|
| Sacrificed in his alter of passions
|
| The golden day ahas come
|
| The lights are all off now
|
| And the love growing louder
|
| The pink, throbbing and filling the room
|
| Indulging the inner, denying the outer
|
| Shes brought before he
|
| His empty gaze it lingers…
|
| …he beats a cats paw- against a toy drum
|
| His golden will be done |