| Already wounded…
|
| I wonder if I would dare to be stabbed by the thorns of virtue
|
| Such a sight, petite and illegal…
|
| A specimen of beauty in shapeless splendour
|
| Haunted by her image in blank dismay
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| I kiss and embrace the dreaming adventure
|
| Of the dainty, delusive doll…
|
| Seeping into the tunnel of reality…
|
| The savage beast of lust mock-manly rearing its deceitful head
|
| With 666 tattooed upon its bleeding chest
|
| Virtue seems like a sheer waste of flesh
|
| I smoulder like a fucking cigarette
|
| She bestow me the poet’s beauty of phrase, oh, I ejaculate…
|
| The vortex of addiction is out of square
|
| There are imaginary catchwords everywhere
|
| The vortex of temptation gently blows
|
| The ego-dolls reap the meadows…
|
| …of megalomania…
|
| Profoundly wounded…
|
| I still wonder during my frequent strolls to this rendezvous
|
| Such a sight, so pristine…
|
| A specimen of beauty in sheer fucking grace
|
| Haunted by her image, spread eagle on my bed
|
| I need some pills to kill the pain
|
| I need some pills to absorb the impression of the dainty, delusive doll
|
| …sleeping into the coma of reality
|
| The savage beast of lust mock-manly rearing its deceitful head
|
| With 666 tattooed upon its bleeding chest
|
| Virtue seems like a sheer waste of flesh
|
| I smoulder like a fucking cigarette
|
| She bestow me the poet’s beauty of phrase, oh, I ejaculate… |