The lights are on
The TV's off
The floors are flesh and silk
Both sinfully soft
Skin glides over silk
Silk glides over skin
The penthouse is alive tonight
There's people writhing in its veins
Sunken in the master's chair
Lord Gold's face, a blank survery
Women pleasure men at the wave of his golden hand
And turn to receive as he waves again
The wine is fire
The whiskey's full of stars
There's a deaf mute in a bunny suit working the bar
The lovers fuck!
They pulse and moan
Passion paying tribute at the foot of a porcelain
Sunken in the master's chair
Lord Gold's face, a blank survery
Women pleasure men at the wave of his golden hand
And turn to receive as he waves again
Still his eyes are like an empty carousel
Promising pleasure but offerng none!
She feels him
Watching!
Gazing!
Leering!
Blankly!
Vacant!
Worthless!
Golden!
Perfect!
And outside of these walls n-n-nothing exists!
And inside of these walls there's flesh and gold and blood in the wine
Outside there's barren, emotional landscape
Here we drink and dream and cum inside!
Here there's no pain!
Wash off the filth and bring her
Shower her body with juniper incense
Fill her with jewels covered in cum
Sacrificed on his holy altar of passion
The lights are all off now
And the love is growing louder
The pink, throbbing, and filling the room
Denying in the inner, indulging the outer
She's brought before he
His empty gaze lingers
He beats a cat's paw against a toy drum
His golden will be done
