Pleasure Victim
John Crawford
We touched there was temperture
i'm not the same
now i'm passing through your door
it's a pleasure game
you're the object of of my smile
i'm a life machine
sentimental sound on sound
time to switch the scene
you're the passion in me
you've broken down the system
you're the vision i see
a pleasure victim
simple figures fill my mind
some i recognize
bodies always look the same
never see their eyes
to the touch there's always you
how can i erase your
flaming candles, whispered words
then your soft embrace