On a night, by soft moonlight forsaken,
Long after the candles have died,
We both flee down the highway oft’ taken
By young lovers longing to ride.
Behind us, the sea’s turbulent madness,
Above us, a thunderstorm looms
But we speed to the city with gladness;
Desirous of pleasure-filled rooms;
Those shrines where sight, sound, and sensation
Bring to us the gods of desire
And you, my pagan priestess of passion,
Burn with that unquenchable fire.
Those flames and all your arcane lover’s art
Forever shall bewitch my heart.
