A pound of flesh for your pleasure, bite down harder for my pain.
This morbid, sensual treasure, a knife blade from insane.
The beatings and the bruises, a reminder of the hurt.
But the pleasure is a treasure, as with danger we both flirt.
I love it when you hate me, as you hate me to love you.
Our embrace a deformation, of a loving point of view.
Lost in the translation, found within our sin.
Beat me, bite me, whip me, tie me, and let the games begin.
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