The lights are on The TV's off The floors are fleshy silk But sinfully soft Skin glides over silk Silk glides over skin The penthouse is alive tonight There's people writhing in its veins
Sunken in the master's chair Lord Gold's face a blank survey Women pleasure men at the wave of his golden hand And turn to receive as he waves again
The wine is fire The whiskey's full of stars There's a deaf mute in a bunny suit Working the bar The lovers fuck They pulse and moan Passion paying tribute At the foot of a porcelain
Sunken in the master's chair Lord Gold's face a blank survey Women pleasure men at the wave of his golden hand And turn to receive as he waves again
Still his eyes are like an empty carousel Promising pleasure but offering none She sees him Watching, gazing, leering blankly, vacant, worthless, golden, perfect
And outside of these walls nothing exists And inside of these walls there's flesh and gold and blood in the wine Outside there's barren emotional landscapes Here we drink and dream and cum inside Here there's no pain Here she comes Wash off the filth and bring her Shower her body with julep and incense Fill her with jewels covered in cum Sacrificed in his alter of passions The golden day has come His golden day has come
And the lights are all off now And the love growing louder The pink, throbbing and filling the room Denying the inner, indulging the outer She's brought before he His empty gaze lingers He beats a cat's paw against a toy drum His golden will be doneTeksty umieszczone na naszej stronie są własnością wytwórni, wykonawców, osób mających do nich prawa.
