Lord Gold Throneroom

The lights are on The t.v's off The floors are flesh and silk Both sinfully soft Skin glides over silk And silk over skin The penthouse is alive tonight Theres people writhing in its veins Sunken in the masters chair Lord gold's face, a blank survey Women pleasure men at the wave of a golden hand And turn to receive when it waves again The wine is fire The whiskeys full of stars There's a deaf mute in a bunny suit Working the bar The loves fuck They pulse and moan Passion playing tribute At the foot of a porcelain Sunken in the masters chair Lord gold's face a blank survey Women pleasure men at the wave of a golden hand And turn to receive when it waves again Still his eyes are like an empty carousel Promising pleasure but offering none! She feels him Watching gazing leering blankly vacant worthless golden perfect Beyond these walls nothing exists Here there's flesh+gold and blood in the wine Outside there's barren emotional landscape Here we drink, dream+cum inside Here there's no pain Here she comes Wash off the filth and bring her Shower her body with jewels covered in cum Sacrificed on his holy altar of passions The golden day has come The lights are all off now And the love growing louder The pink, throbbing and filling the room Indulging in the inner, denying the outer Shes brought before he His empty gaze it lingers He beats a cats paw- against a toy drum His golden will be done