Pleasure Victim
JOHN BUCKNER CRAWFORD
Pleasure Victim
Berlin
Pleasure Victim
We touched there was temperature
I'm not the same
Now I'm passing through your door
It's a pleasure game
you're the object of of my smile
I'm a life machine
Sentimental sound on sound
Time to switch the scene
you're the passion in me
You've broken down the system
You're the vision I see
A pleasure victim
simple figures fill my mind
Some I recognize
Bodies always look the same
Never see their eyes
to the touch there's always you
How can I erase your
Flaming candles, whispered words
Then your soft embrace