Another late night in a trance,
and I find it difficult to sleep.
Sadness stirs within me,
dark, menacing, and deep.
Feeling used and broken,
you play me like an instrument.
A fast staccato pace,
like a violin, like a castanet.

Why do I fall prey
to wolves in sheep's clothing?
Manipulation only taints
my sorrow with great longing.
To be pure and to be free
is a state which I've forgotten.
Too many cigarettes and coffee
only leave me sick and rotten.

The loss of innocence is
like the closing of a door.
The ugliness of lust lingers
like the perfume of a cheap whore.
It gets inside your clothes,
in your hair, and in your skin.

Hide it all behind a sweet face,
and they won't know where you've been.