They dance like the little ***** they are.
One man's pain is another man's pleasure.
Gratification is met when my **** meets your tight grip,
but has this gone too far or should I hold it in?
It lingers, it holds, it chokes my very chest.
There is no beat, but the pounding still persists.
Gravitate, levitate, initiate desire.
I have no such fire,
but the blue flame guides my heat.
They go hand in hand.
*** and pain, invigorating yet nullifying.
This numb soul holds onto too many shadows,
and this ecstasy can only be held for so long...