| Summer pales, like a ghost of stubborn Spring
|
| This itch, this prayerful longing for heat
|
| Belies an angel’s desire to take wing
|
| So as you fall, then fall into me sweet
|
| Persephone now your poet and guide
|
| Night after day after night I’ll complete
|
| Your saintly goodness with it’s darker side
|
| As one without the other is naive
|
| Past Limbo, to the Second Circle we slide:
|
| When first you whisper that little white lie
|
| The gods will laugh
|
| The gods will cry
|
| In this soft circle, Reason’s slave to desire
|
| This feels like fun
|
| This feels like fire
|
| These small indiscretions may get lost over time
|
| So much like love
|
| So much like crime
|
| As fine fine fabric slipping over your skin
|
| This feels like silk
|
| This feels like sin
|
| Like a gentle dirty dream
|
| Like a room where you can hide
|
| Like confession in your sleep
|
| Like expression sanctified
|
| Like a devil, like a friend
|
| Like a doctor who can end your pain
|
| Like a pillow, like a kiss
|
| Like a party, like a pill
|
| Like a priest my lovely lips
|
| As redemption will fulfill
|
| Every spectral midnight fantasy
|
| Each and every damning desire to be Complicit with me And as I leave you softly under the stars
|
| Without a scratch
|
| Without a scar
|
| Like hell on earth slipping under your skin
|
| This feels like love
|
| This feels like sin |