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"No kind of sensation is keener and more active than that of pain Its impressions are unmistakable" |
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Prithee... charm me fro' mine mortal guise |
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I fear, by my throth, the evenfall o' youth |
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May I succumb to thee and claim thy most vital kiss... |
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So what are you waiting for... "What lack of movement! What ice! Nothing stirs me, nothing excites me... I ask you, is this pleasure? What difference on the other side! What tickling on my senses! What excitement in my organs" |
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Fro' Aurora's bed, of gods eyesight lost, a sick man shed his tears |
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Did I live dead or did |
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I live at all when |
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I knew nought but mortal fears |
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The fume of my sighs draped the soil |
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Intertwined with the fresh morning dew |
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I bedevilled my name and succumbed to thy seductive flesh |
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In hope to remember the view |
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I taunt thee... daughter o' seraphs |
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Oh, I bevail thy loss of innocense... |
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I will write, by my troth, a sonnet to thee my beloved |
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Haunting... |
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I wander through the crowded streets o' |
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London Dressed to kill and live and let live and leave traces o' red |
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I think I'm kinda falling in love with you |
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Oh, fair virgin... spread thy angelwings and crown me for being a madman |
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Innocense and fear, mirrored in the savage eyes of lechery |
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Sweet sixteen, sweet innocent colleen |
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I crave the sweet, sweet taste of thy naked vulva |
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Sucking, sucking... and so on and so forth 'til |
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I besmear thy innocense |
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Mesmerized by thy poisonous wine |
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Ah, I fall in love... |