Haunted - Type O Negative

A swollen sun melting at the horizon

Between the sheets I wait for her to come

A living flame, impossible to resist

Burning me deep with every bite, kiss and lick

I’m haunted

I’m haunted

I’m haunted (by her)

Invades my sleep with tumescent intentions

Hades I’m sure must be missing a demon

I hate the morning

I hate the morning

From the panes a green mist swirls

Is it a shadow of reflection?

This apparition in moon beams bathed

A voice like wind through trees beckons

Cool rain on hot summer stone

The odor fills my presence

Of freshly dug grave and death and night

These things are her essence

Nocturnal mistress, spirit lover

Your mouth of wine and woodsmoke taste

My goddess of the violet twilight

You are lust incarnate

In the sweat of my bed

The eastern sky hints of dawning

Alone and awake but exhausted I lie

Oh how I hate the morning

I hate the morning (light)

I hate the morning (light)