Your arms are two cold traps for the beasts, 
But it"s a bliss to fall asleep in it. 
You ask to let drink blood from my wrists
And mark with it the narrow path you lead. 
You will not play my hangman again,
Erasing lines between the fear and lust. 
You will not hurt, like God hurts, in vain,
Destroying paradises into dust. 
You poison my mind with poppy drug, 
Which strangely does reveal fatal mistakes.
You guide me in the mazes of dark,
Through hellish circles and sulfuric lakes:
You"ve turned the horror into your craft,
You"ve found the art inside of death and fate...
You"re still so hated and so beloved, 
You"re like salvation, bought from Sky too late. 
You"re playing on the verge of obscene, 
The verge between the hungry wolf and lamb,
Prey, murderer - you"re always between
These borders, holding very last step back.