I don't think he likes me anymore
But the ride tasted so good
Listening to criticism
Not so good
Hurt, pain, lust, passion
They all go hand and hand
They dance to silent stares
The pounding beats bursting their skin
Digging into the flesh till it burns
Yet they still plaster smiles
Passion runs over the hurt
Lust tramples pain
The taste so ever bitter
Now sweet again
