Dead Poetic

She's a god in her own right. She dims the room light.
While she moves closer, we all move slower.
Tracing white lines, sipping fine wines.
We remember when purity wasn't dead.
In this darkness I can't remember when we were stable, we were able.
The sex is the lioness, queen of the temple.
I look right in her eyes, then down to her level.
She'll play unstable and let you get away. You get her faded, but not her name.
You've taken something sacred and made it a game.
Your perversions are wicked and fanning the flame.
In this darkness I can't remember when we were stable, we were able.
In this darkness I can't remember when we were stable, no.