Things of black and things of white,
like pieces on a chessboard.
We never can get things quite right,
we are not equal, you are my lord.
Without a cause, but with effect,
you toy with me each day.
For a reason I can't detect,
It has to be this way.
The day I tire and I shall flee,
for you have wore me out.
That'll be the last you'll see of me,
and you'll be regret, I have no doupt.
Until that day, I'll be your slave,
submit to your cruel will.
But unless you change your ways,
you'll soon have broke my will. | | torture | | Lisas: Hing @ 2012-10-13 | Hinne: 3 |
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