Could you move your hand away from there,
And stop your fingers from trapping my lips?

But I said no..
Or doesn't that matter?
Doesn't that steal the passion,
Even just a little bit?

This is passion, right?
Is this what I've been wanting to feel?
Having my head slammed into the bed post,
Or the gravel?
Whichever one you'll take advantage of next..

Oh God, please stop.

How many times do I have to say it?
Or scream it..
Whichever one will do its trick.

Please, tell me which tone I should use,
Tell me which word I can scream..
Without you screaming at me.

Tell me what a slut I am..
Slap me again,
And scream my name over,
And over again.
Because this is passion..
Yeah, this is what you've tricked me into.

So this is the feeling you told me about?
This is the climax you said I could have?

Well I guess
Passion is my black eye,
My way to live..
My way to scream, cry..
And my way to beg.

Passion is us,
It's my head to the gravel,
And my heart sank to my stomach..
Trying not to scream again..
Trying not to be struck across the face
Once more.

 
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