I ache for the touch of your lips ,dear, But much more for the touch of your whips, dear....
Click to viewMy beloved dearest... How much I long for you.
I wish to become the blood running in your veins, the air in your lungs...
Haha no, this is not what it sounds like. The above is based on a conversation I had with my friend :) (and neither of us would be actually considered as a romantic person...)
Sometimes I just sit and listen to the song "The Masochism Tango" by Tom Lehrer (video posted above).
I understand that's it's satire in its purest, bluntest form, and I love every minute of it.
Why should love be associated with red roses, and pink bubbles, confining the lovers in their own imaginary world? Let us be realistic, life is not a road paved with flower petals. If it were we would be unsatisfied with our lives.
One that has never felt pain and agony cannot appreciate the small joys of life.
~~~
I love my friends, they've been besides me at the roughest times of my life.
I have yet to experience romantic love. After all why should I rush? Life's ahead of me (well of course nothing guarantees that I won't die, say, tomorrow).
I prefer not to fret over issues like these. After all if I always worry about finding my true love, I will shun away the simple joys and the wonderful times I'll have with my friends.
~~~
I ache for the touch of your lips, dear,
But much more for the touch of your whips, dear.
You can raise welts
Like nobody else,
As we dance to the masochism tango.
Say our love be a flame, not an ember,
Say it's me that you want to dismember.
Blacken my eye,
Set fire to my tie,
As we dance to the masochism tango.
At your command
Before you here I stand,
My heart is in my hand. ecch!
It's here that I must be.
My heart entreats,
Just hear those savage beats,
And go put on your cleats
And come and trample me.
Your heart is hard as stone or mahogany,
That's why I'm in such exquisite agony.
My soul is on fire,
It's aflame with desire,
Which is why I perspire
When we tango.
You caught my nose
In your left castanet, love,
I can feel the pain yet, love,
Ev'ry time I hear drums.
And I envy the rose
That you held in your teeth, love,
With the thorns underneath, love,
Sticking into your gums.
Your eyes cast a spell that bewitches.
The last time I needed twenty stitches
To sew up the gash
That you made with your lash,
As we danced to the masochism tango.
Bash in my brain,
And make me scream with pain,
Then kick me once again,
And say we'll never part.
I know too well
I'm underneath your spell,
So, darling, if you smell
Something burning, it's my heart.
Excuse me!
Take your cigarette from it's holder,
And burn your initials in my shoulder.
Fracture my spine,
And swear that you're mine,
As we dance to the masochism tango.
~~
Have a wonderful summer :)