I turned my back to the Sun's harsh rays,
Haven't a lust for light these days;
So, kneel and pay the stars their due,
To force their silence, and imbue.
Court the cobra,
Seduce the snake,
Lay with the lion,
Only for thirst to slake,
His. Own.
And run,
your shame cannot hide your face.
Who should weep on a day so fine?
Hidden, Hidden:
Clandestine.
You'll need more than that to tame this beast,
O Sun with your back to the waiting East,
What madman seeks to fill this void?
There can be no rest for a man destroyed.
Caught the cobra,
Strangled the snake,
Laid down the lion,
All for the thirst to slake,
Your. Own.
Don't run,
he sees his echoes in your face.
Who should rupture a vein so fine?
Hidden, Hidden:
Clandestine.
Fingers tracing a thin red line,
What, shall we wait 'til the stars align?
Only a game till our limbs entwine,
I made a vow: You Will Be Mine.
We'll give as much as we can take,
Rip this thirst from you to slake,
My. Own.
Just run.
(Who would have thought I would miss your face?)
Who should laugh at a war so fine?
Hidden, Hidden:
Clandestine.
