The scent, the flavour, the juice, the charms
Tonight my prey will suffer in my arms
Gently I squeeze the throat
Give 710 stitches and you’ll beg for more
With passion I’ll spit on you
And strike harder when you feel the goddamn sore
I taste you much better
Throw down the gloves
Parading in front of me
Pierced by the thorns of the rose
Let me choke, let me whisper
Eat this thunderskin
Tonight my prey will suffer in my arms
Sharpen the nails, sharpen the teeth
Give 69 feelings and you’ll beg for more
With passion I’ll spit on you
And strike harder when you feel the goddamn sore
