Lure of the Temptress
Right in front of you
Charm in her calling
And the whirl of her whip
No place for reasoning
Bereft of it all
No space for breathing
Crushed under her grip
Nothing more than pain
When lust is gone
Aftermath will come
And flesh will hurt
Blood on our fingers
Sand on our tongues
Rust on our bodies
Then it's over and done
Nothing more than pain
When lust is gone
Aftermath will come
And flesh will hurt
A rush of blood pumping up to your head
Filled by her whispering "Here I am"
All of your senses become amplified
Yielding to her evil forces
Nothing more than pain
When lust is gone
Aftermath will come
And flesh will hurt