The soul is rich in texture
but you're never gonna feel a thing.
They slide down my tongue;
you're never gonna taste a thing.

What cowards you all are.
Run.

I can feel your life in my hands;
coiling around my fingers.
I can lick your pleasures
and drill through your
sorrows.
I can stroke the backs of your
demons
and nibble at your
nightmares,

but I'll never
give you
the pleasure.