Club 45 - BLACKMAIL

She dropped the bomb

And held the score

A leather fiction

That has left her bored

Another seed

I stuck to you

You get the toxic

With a broken clue

You feel the heat

Content again

A drug that speeds you

Till you hit the band

Prepared for more

You scrubbed the floor

Till you had enough

And then you locked the door

All my senses are collected in my hand

And I think that it was nothing I have planned

Another scene

On a busy street

I know I’m there

To get up my feet

A rip-off fare

Of a leather sign

I feel like something

That was on your mind

Intend the kiss

That let me in

Into a secret

That was made in sin

I took the rope

And stuck too deep

And what has left

Is just a fucking creep

All my senses are collected in my hand

And I think that it was nothing I have planned

You know I can’t

She will stand

To have you bend

Along the thrill

And cannot soothe you again

You have to wait

To take my hand

All my senses are collected in my hand

And I think that it was nothing I have planned

All my senses feel errected in my hand

And you are banned