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Your hands behind your back, Tied tightly with a rope. Your sitting on a cold, stone floor, Wondering how you'll cope. You try to loosen the rope a bit, But your hands get covered in blood.
Dear Captor What is the matter. Surely you know this is wrong, all that's been going on. The bath was nice, thanks for the glass of a lovely rich red.
I took my time to show you that I knew. I took my time to see how deranged you grew. I gave you far too many chances. I thought it would stop. I let you take me places I didn't want to go.