Lady, put your lips to mine,
Whisper sweet nothings.
In time, we shall be one
And the storm will be a distant memory.
The maid crashes plates,
And lights a thousand white candles,
At the place where we shall dine,
My hand upon your stockinged thigh,
Ever upward.
You say you ache,
Yet know not how,
I cannot contain my heart anymore.
Your eyes upon me,
Lust; a never completed chain,
Hardly a sin,
Stalks through the night,
I stake my claim,
To your lust,
And ever upward,
My hand grasps your narrow waist,
As my head dips to your collarbone,
And my teeth graze,
The delicacy of your lily white throat.
We kiss so deep,
I could drown in your kisses,
And drown happy,
And perfectly calm.
No dinner guests,
Just us,
In the Great Hall,
And the butler in his black suit,
And the maid flashing tan skin,
With a mischievous smile.
I take you by the hand,
It is time.
I feel that all crave to be us tonight.
How beautiful and perfect we are,
We exist, we exist,
And are nothing more,
Than all that is a lover’s dream,
Swirling, swirling
We are nothing more,
Than the smoke,
That rises,
From a lonely girl’s cigarette.
Whisper sweet nothings.
In time, we shall be one
And the storm will be a distant memory.
The maid crashes plates,
And lights a thousand white candles,
At the place where we shall dine,
My hand upon your stockinged thigh,
Ever upward.
You say you ache,
Yet know not how,
I cannot contain my heart anymore.
Your eyes upon me,
Lust; a never completed chain,
Hardly a sin,
Stalks through the night,
I stake my claim,
To your lust,
And ever upward,
My hand grasps your narrow waist,
As my head dips to your collarbone,
And my teeth graze,
The delicacy of your lily white throat.
We kiss so deep,
I could drown in your kisses,
And drown happy,
And perfectly calm.
No dinner guests,
Just us,
In the Great Hall,
And the butler in his black suit,
And the maid flashing tan skin,
With a mischievous smile.
I take you by the hand,
It is time.
I feel that all crave to be us tonight.
How beautiful and perfect we are,
We exist, we exist,
And are nothing more,
Than all that is a lover’s dream,
Swirling, swirling
We are nothing more,
Than the smoke,
That rises,
From a lonely girl’s cigarette.