Bauhaus, Dark Entries

Caressing, bent up to the jug again, With sheaths and pills, Invading all those stills, in a hovel of a bed, I will scream in vain, Oh please miss lane, Leave me with some pain…

Went walking through this city’s neon lights, in fear of disguising my warping seething pressure lines and graceless heirs intangible of price, Trying so hard to find what was right…

I came upon your room, it stuck into my head, We leapt into the bed degrading even lice, You took delight in taking down my shielded pride, Until exposed became my darker side…

…puckering up and down those avenues of sin, Too cheap to ride… they’re worth a try if only for the old times, cold times… don’t go waving your pretentious love!

He’s soliciting on his tan brown brogues, gyrating through some lonesome devils row, pinpointing well meaning upper-class prey, Of walking money checks possessing holes.

He often sleekly offers his services, in exploitation of his finest years, works with loosely woven fabrics of lonely office clerks, any lay suffices his dollar green eye…

I came upon your room, it stuck into my head, We leapt into the bed degrading even lice, You took delight in taking down my shielded pride, Until exposed became my darker side…

…puckering up and down those avenues of sin, Too cheap to ride… they’re worth a try if only for the old times, cold times… don’t go waving your pretentious love!

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