You could’ve tasted like heaven
How would I know,
I’m going to hell?

I’m quite sure my hands would love to crawl,
Over your soft skin
I’m quite sure I would love to sniff,
Your silky long hair
I’m quite sure my arms would love to wrap,
Itself around your body

By the burning lamp,
I’m taking advantage over you, sweat running;
You, moaning, knowing nobody would hear
Piercing your nails at my back, with rage and fear

Your clothes torn to pieces,
Caused by resisting me
Your body tattooed with bruises,
Caused by my too-firm grip
Your addictive breath
That goes through my throat and lungs

You could’ve tasted like heaven
How would I know,
I’m going to hell?