| Welcome to the joyous carnival of passion
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| Where the mind surrenders to the animal
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| Smell the seductive odour of the naked skin
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| Bathed in the exotic oils, the potions of desire
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| It would be folly to defy the eldest law
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| For resistance will only supply the fire of lust
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| With her wooden excuses
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| We are here to drink this old wine without remorse
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| To spill the fluid of Genesis
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| In abundance because we all know
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| That as this elixir of life will flow
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| We will be left exhausted but smiling
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| Nails sink into sweaty ground
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| Marking Dionysiac stings
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| Sparks set from velvet tongues
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| That bring close soft orange lips
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| Phallic litanies
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| Paths lead inside warm nests, that scared shrines of sin
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| As serpents we crawl beneath
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| The guises that we all wear
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| It would be folly to defy the eldest law
|
| For resistance will only supply the fire of lust
|
| With her wooden excuses
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| So it will grow stronger and stronger
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| Until fatally it will consume the renegades
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| With the flames of their denied satisfaction
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| Phallic litanies |