My crimson queen, with chains that gleam, a heart of thunder, a wicked dream. Your leather screams, a second skin, where shadows dance and lusts begin.
The stage your altar, bathed in red, your voice, a venom in my head. Each piercing glance, a burning brand, a dark desire I understand.
Your fingers fly, a wicked grace, across the strings, a wild embrace. The bassline throbs, a primal beat, our bodies pulse, a carnal heat.
Beneath the lights, a sweaty sheen, a savage hunger, raw and keen. Your smoky breath upon my face, a promise whispered in this place.
This brutal beauty, sharp and cold, a story in your eyes unfolds. Of shattered saints and fallen skies, reflected in your hungry eyes.
So let the feedback howl and tear, as tangled limbs confess our prayer. My metal mistress, dark and deep, into your wicked arms, I sleep.
