The night in my boudoir is dense, A dream is rising from incense vapours: A mirage of you. Nothing can alleviate these thoughts of you, The usual caress of laudanum is ineffective. Just tell me why: You taste of blood and lead, you penetrate my world Just as that pure blade of Archangel Michael, But behind you, there's a more ancient God who's calling... With your uniform on, my Soldier You seem to me a king adorned with gold and fire It's not because of that uniform that I noticed you: It's the Man inside, who makes me succumb... Oh forgive my impudence, Madame Touch the Madness now -- it's generous. Oh just win and conquer me, my handsome Officer
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