Now that I've charmed you, I'm called upon to do my worst To hustle these joys would ill fit how I dream you Not like the rest not hum Not like the rest we're not fully human
Run cold, now I run cold (I knew this night would come) Scared to tear your hair of spun gold What could heat me would be foul, what it would do to you I choose no control
I touch them with the rubber gloves of a repeating dream They overstep their narrow role And real flesh swells to threaten the body of fantasy It must be frozen and cut
Run cold, now I run cold (I knew this night would come) Scared to tear your hair of spun gold What could heat me would be foul, what it would do to you I choose no controlTeksty umieszczone na naszej stronie są własnością wytwórni, wykonawców, osób mających do nich prawa.