The lights are on

The TV's off

The floors are flesh and silk

Both sinfully soft

Skin glides over silk

Silk glides over skin

The penthouse is alive tonight

There's people writhing in its veins



Sunken in the master's chair

Lord Gold's face, a blank survery

Women pleasure men at the wave of his golden hand

And turn to receive as he waves again



The wine is fire

The whiskey's full of stars

There's a deaf mute in a bunny suit working the bar

The lovers fuck!

They pulse and moan

Passion paying tribute at the foot of a porcelain



Sunken in the master's chair

Lord Gold's face, a blank survery

Women pleasure men at the wave of his golden hand

And turn to receive as he waves again



Still his eyes are like an empty carousel

Promising pleasure but offerng none!

She feels him

Watching!

Gazing!

Leering!

Blankly!

Vacant!

Worthless!

Golden!

Perfect!



And outside of these walls n-n-nothing exists!

And inside of these walls there's flesh and gold and blood in the wine

Outside there's barren, emotional landscape

Here we drink and dream and cum inside!

Here there's no pain!

Wash off the filth and bring her

Shower her body with juniper incense

Fill her with jewels covered in cum

Sacrificed on his holy altar of passion



The lights are all off now

And the love is growing louder

The pink, throbbing, and filling the room

Denying in the inner, indulging the outer

She's brought before he

His empty gaze lingers

He beats a cat's paw against a toy drum

His golden will be done