A transparent heart can't hide its blackest wish. 
Even blood, pounding deceit, only makes your motives 
clearer. 
Your scheme to conceal the desire may be wise, 
But I can still see lust hidden in your famished eyes. 
Now that you've shed your skin, you suppose it's time to 
feed? 
Well, I won't be your submissive prey; I've tamed my 
share of beasts. 
Now that you've shed your skin, don't assume its time to 
feed. 
Love is often gilded with a glaze of deceitful bliss to 
hide the darkness underneath. 
It's not what it seems. It's not what it appears to be. 
Suspicion is the blood that lingers on the meat. 
The more you devour, the more you crave the taste of the 
life you profess to care for. 
You will remain a slave to your own satisfaction until 
you drain the starvation 
From your eyes and see that I, too, know how to kill. I 
will fucking kill.