Pain and pleasure, all the same to me
A romantic novel gone awry
In angry overtones and symbols
On ochre chaise lounge chairs
The debt we owe grows and grows
Each one of us the banker
Each of us the customer
Waiting on life in pairs
Thrill and killing, all the same to me
A pantry full of woes and tales
Both soft and well-blown gales
Lift us up to heaven's stairs
Work, work hard boys and girls
This is the way of the world below
This is the time we grow bold
Acting stages, acting ensnares
Pain and pleasure, the cut of the blade
A train ride south to everywhere
In sultry, panicked tracks
I leave with little, if any, care
