Love is something that is alive,
That empties us out with short, short tempers
And an odd foolish pride that comes with
Being more than one…

There is a passion deep inside my veins,
Some deep desire for the blood,
For the tempo, for the sex,
And I feel the delicate longing blossom
As I gaze at the painting you have become…
Run, yes, flee,
For tonight, if I see you,
You’ll become the object of my world
And I will chase…pursue…
Have you until there is
Nothing left to take…
Cherish, delving, admirable,
And the soft gleam of silver eyes…
Draw me a map of winter.
Then show me the designs for fall,
Show me before the sun comes up…
And truly be the subject,
Be the subject.