Sin IV
© Copyright 2004 - Recherché Inamorato Productions

A mystic lullaby sounds from an old record player as you gently blink,
Blood dripping from the corners of your eyes and swirling around the lavish satin and lace that frost our very being.
Whispers startle a fire that grows out of control, setting the moon ablaze.
Melodic tunes of my hate spill from my pores while I beg -
Of you in silent fear.
Dust of the elixir is powerful, allowing you to inhale me.
Winter needles pierce the frozen leaves below, but you can keep me warm with your glazed touch.
The lust of your star blooms into a complicated garden of cat's teeth and cursed skulls, still inhibited.
A cobra has glorified my silhouette for your black fangs to sink into my neck.

Screams of the breeze entertwine with your wings of a gentle calamity built with enchanted things.