Sharp Nails Cross The Line

A Poem by Furious George

I think there was a succubi in my sleep.

Bedazzle the thoughts in my mind,
intertwine, with the influences that
I already took on earlier
Eyes black, Body motionless
In the corridor

In the corridor we'd meet,
and greet with a gentle kiss
but every kiss was more a diss
when I felt the nails in my back
clearly to show that what we had was myth

Suffocate me, suffocating kiss
If I make it and live
make it something I'll miss
corrupt my mind, cross the line
I told you to stay away from

you never listened
your lips are treason.