Blood to blood, tongue to tongue;
we started this game much too young.
Give it some time--some space to grow,
There's so many things we shouldn't know.
The only touch you can give me is cold,
the edge of your knife against my breast;
you've never wanted to tell the truth, aniki;
let's just stop pretending.
Like butterflies, we fly aimlessly;
without purpose, pretty things we are.
I've give up on trying to keep my wings
closed against the your constant assault.
I'll tell you what--let's play a game;
you tell me you love me and I'll...
...Ssh, we don't have to tell anyone.