Tempo

There is a rythem, I am sure of it, but I am too far gone to find it.

A kind of dance you lead me in.

There is a reason to this madness you make me feel.

Every touch, word, look, all of it is planned.

All of it has a sense of beat.

But I am too far gone in pleasure to figure it out.

I will leave it to you to make such music as you play me like an instrument.

And I don't mind as you conduct me as if I were a masterpiece.