|
there were words of lust |
|
in these arms of the stranger |
|
and there in silence though were words of no milder |
|
so in thinking of that madness |
|
that ravage the thoughts |
|
in the loneliest of hours |
|
I resist without control |
|
the demand I get from excellence |
|
the void I felt from answering |
|
not only an addition |
|
it generated need |
|
in these endless nights of freezing |
|
my weight on the other side |
|
I resist without control |
|
feel the thorns of uncontrol |
|
claws that set in sleeps december |
|
let loose on the verge |
|
talked to me as strangers once did |
|
the tone was set for winter |
|
sweet uncontrol |
|
beyond proportion |
|
into the night |
|
so strike me deeper |
|
I resist without control |
|
feel the thorns of uncontrol |
|
the death that craved no life |
|
now ended |
|
in return |
|
drifting uncontrolably |
|
within the night |
