Type O Negative Haunted
A swollen sun melting in 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)