I loved the way that your voice
Sounded now that I was Free
My eyes closed
And your hair brushed against my neck.
"Song another one."
I said,
And your hand brush me dress made of
Silk
"Oh course, My Dear."
You replied and
Your voice carried out once more.
My binds,
Now rusted
And broken,
Still shudder and creak
When you sing.
("Sing the one that's about me."
"Of course, my love."
