My Dearest Pain

What a wonderful rush of feelings it is to have ya, Emancipation from those pity thoughts, A trip Such as dwelling into the wild part of the jungle, Wild rose & aggressive usurper, Calm and Wicked, Girl you you feed my nerves and delight my mind, My deepest melancholy and my sunshine, And her eyes, Tear right through me like Bolshevik bullets, It kills, but at least I die at my comfortable, - Maybe that's why S in her name stands for both scintillating and satan, Like craving drugs, it's irking and sad but what can I do? Completely manhandled, I just crave, Can't even stop the addiction, Can't even close the book, Everytime, Like the Bolshevik bullet, She comes right through. -- I am waiting. Holding a match, Lighting up the darkness in the alley suddenly realizing I am the wool, That she comes right through.