Whispers of death

Twisting, twirling, stunning Flame

Should I let thou feel this corrupt me?

I shall, if thou promises to smother my deception,

Kill my greed, and let me breathe no more

How could it ever be wrong if I let thou feast on me?

For I have had no morals

No ounce of merit

Nor a shred of truth or worth

Bending, curling, coiling gold

I see you thirst for me;

For beneath my skin beats a cruel heart

That pumps vile seeds of evil deeds

My soul seeks thy touch

To free itself,

To put my bleeding conscience to an endless slumber

When I come to thee and seek thy help

Spare not my skin, my voice, my treacherous lies

Swallow my smile, my waist, my haunting eyes

For I demand only what I deserve

And death it is for me

Burn me to my deepest depths

Until to the world I am,

But a fable, a dream, a fading tale.