Sunday, September 7, 2008

und kurz ist unser leben


Don’t tell me, sweet, that I’m unkind
Each time I black your eye,
Or raise a weal on your behind —
I’m just a loving guy.

We both despise the gentle touch,
So cut out the pretence;
You wouldn’t love it half as much
Without the violence.

Roy Dean - Lovelace Bleeding

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