| 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 |