Black As I - Withering Surface

You Are The salt

In sickness

I Am The wound

In sickness And health

The Music Ceases

As Your noble Touch Pleases

Your predictable Touch Ceases

As The Tirering Music Pleases

You Are The water

In sickness

I Am The flame

In sickness And Health

Maybe, I Want To Cherish

Your Sensual virginity

Maybe, I Want To Cherish

Your Sensual inability

Maybe, You Ask Why

Why You Are, black as I

And Sorrow Fills The Moon

As I kiss her Faithfully

And Shadows Fill The Room

As The beast Take Shape To Win

You’re Black, You’re Black

You’re black as I

When Our thrills Cease

I Leave The World Behind

A delightful Feast I Wish

Oh, Lord, You Know I Tried

Like Blood, A scent In The Sun

So Special, Maybe the only one

And her Flaming lips

Swallow My Endless Mess

And her Lovely heartless Soul

I Soon Have Torn — in two

«All black souls should look

For white elements in themselves»