I fell for a pile of alien goo.
But the harder I fell for it, the more it evolved.
It fed off my pleasure. It shaped itself to please me.
But sometimes it wasn't pleasure I wanted,
So he changed himself until I was happy,
Until he could give me the precious pain I craved.
He delivered his pain like a song.
Each note matched the rhythm of my pleasure.
He few and grew only on what made me feel good,
So the pain he gave me always hurt just right.
He's still changing every night.
Each morning I wake up to a new body beside me.
But it's always him, just polished that much closer to my idea of perfection.
But to feed my need for pain,
He's reached out for something dark,
And it's growing inside him.
That dark thing growing in him is hurting me better than ever.
He's playing the song to startling new heights of ecstasy.
My body is his instrument. My screams are his voice.
But no matter how good it hurts, I won't let him stop.
