Azoic Pure Pleasure
I stood, you hit, for pure pleasure, as pure as glass
Ran down the back of my neck
The imprint left will not wash away
Scrubbing it raw
I cry unable to breathe
Bleeding
No reason, pure pleasure, the shearness of pleasure
Power for your kind, power in your hand
No thoughts exchanged
I was down
Without reason, without power
The pure pleasure of shearness
Oh shearness of pleasure, of power and hatred
On the innocent, of which no one protects
For your pleasure of power
The power of pleasure, pleasure of power