Ad mala patrata haec sunt theatra parata. Trick mortis, trick mortis, sick mortis Ask me; you question me. Why must our pleasure always be in restraint? No pain, no pleasure Restraint, restraint Ad mala patrata... In my slick black world. Trick... Mortis... Sick... Mortis... In my slick black world. Where senses crave to enslave... In my slick black world. Deprive all senses; control all defenses. Where sighs breed like flies. Do you know, it's where perversion hides. Bet you've never seen me ache as the panic melts away. Bet you'll never waste... Could you take another taste of me? To accompany every penetration with a death rattle. Feel it prick... Pleasure in restraint.
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