It started slowly. Like the light drumming of a summer rain on a low ceiling, a reassuring caress. A whole new meaning to be feelin' lucky. What words we say will never change us, mon amour and kissing you is breathing new life in my heart; I can't stop . I die with your eyes, entwined in an eternal vine of lust.
"Do you like canaries?"
"The little yellow birds? They're the honey of lost isles."
"Sing, then."
What love we may have will never change us, my love, et t'embrasser me rempli d'une peine délicieuse. Delicious pain, le plaisir langoureux de ta présence.
Chante, charmante traîtresse des îles perdues.
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