Mistress Of Midnight

Sweet piece of meat,
From the velvet street,
Of underground dance,
And neon trance,
Come sway to me,
A smile is free,
But you’ll pay to bite,
The lunar rite,
Where low fires burn,
And immortals yearn,
For the honey you drip,
From hungry lips.
You are the bread,
That feeds the dead,
On the altar stone,
Where blackness hones,
The blade of life,
Your gleaming knife,
Stuck in my back,
For the love’s lack,
Such a lovely lass,
So hard and crass,
Yet still I sway,
When you want to play.

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