I envy all the lovers
In their private rooms
I don't like the taste
Of my solitude
Iiaah
I wish to send you poems
But my tongue is drying out
For I am bound with evil
These eyes are filled with doubt
Iiaah
Love
It's beauty
Hungry for a muse
Undressing rapidly
In your tiny room
And a hand is reaching
For the poison that you bring
For the gold on the table
For the songs that you sing
(Songs that you sing
Poison that you bring...)