Take me in this sin, I'm wrapped in rags,
I won't desert you when your breasts begin to sag,
in the morning I'll kiss my May queen,
and in the evening make love to the woman of my illicit dreams
Time is a trick played on unsuspecting minds,
beauty's obsession, a sign of the times,
our conscience struggling in the sordid web we weave,
the blood of my blood, flesh of my flesh to you I bequeath
The fire is favored in love for the first five,
Leo Mars checking the pulse of an Aquarian for vital signs,
frivolously we frantically search for a future forecast,
meanwhile, our molecules collide
and produce the telltale sonic blast
OF FLESH AND BLOOD,
OF HEART AND SOLD,
OF GROWING OLD,
OF LOVE'S DISSECTION,
PRAYING HELPLESSLY FOR AN ASTRAL REFLECTION
My time is yours, for you to waste,
my blood is poured, I know you enjoy the taste,
as midnight looms, will you begin to howl,
or seduce the beggars' banquet by merely dropping your towel
The cross inverts, the Vestal Virgins burn at the stake,
manic memories the fuel we use to cremate,
Love's death is calling, will you blink first,
or ignore the signs of the cross to satiate your carnal thirst
The Priestesses of Vesta ignoring the vow of chastity,
while whores wearing scarlet letters hold foolish hearts in captivity,
Urban Prefects stop at nothing to maintain the traditional,
while constellations align in patterns asymmetrical,
the time has come
OF FLESH AND BLOOD,
OF HEART AND SOLD,
OF PROPHECY FORETOLD,
HIS DEMONIC DECEPTION,
PRAYING HELPLESSLY FOR AN ASTRAL REFLECTION
The courtyard now vacant, the corpses are piled,
the Regents of Romulus and Remus marching past single file,
meanwhile the founders of Babylon determine her love's worth,
while the dawn of death descends to consecrate the earth
The Kiss of Solidarity, dipped in brine and arsenic laced,
the cypher revealed, the debased deface the chaste,
The martyr of Love's Longing wounded, a suppurating wound,
as a viscous exudate preceeds Love's Savior from the womb
All fall down, mistakingly thinking the Savior is James the Just,
as the Sorceress prowls the grottos in a wanderlust,
I whisper, take me here I am, here I am,
and as we consumate our passion the contures of her heart
transform into a pentagram,
the time has come,
OF FLESH AND BLOOD,
OF HEART AND SOLD,
OF THIS I BEHOLD,
HER INDESCRETIONS,
FACING THE MIRROR OF MY SOUL
FAIL TO REVEAL AN ASTRAL REFLECTION