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I escape into a passion of sexual temperature
For my love
My drought is a single serving of frustration
My bondage is the doubt that my love will never find
Me
So my search has no taste
My heart beats but with a symphany of sympathy
The map he uses to search for me has no destination
So my faith has to be flighted for his discovery
In his search will he find me_
Or will he fall short to the lady that stands in his way
Who they call her Seduce-her Maps
Or will his eyes never see a work of a devils art
And keep searching for his work of art?
