The weight of passion sits so strong,
The result, a quiet kind of song.
Bring me lust, and flesh and joy.
My body dances, my soul implore.
Carry thy heavy heart, lost in love.
And bring to me folly, from above.
For if the night to end in dawn.
The sweat and sting becomes the song.
Its whistle, quaint yet does intrude.
Upon the mention of ones mood.
As roses grow, as roses bloom.
I wait for you inside a room.
The doors are locked, the windows shut.
Mindfulness it flocks, oh what a rut.
My eyes see you, in lingerie,
Of the deepest blue.
Until you reach and drink my blood.
My sweet, my only one.