Alleluia, beatus vir qui suffert

Alleluia, beatus vir qui suffert
Chanting of the Monks
scene music, medieval
mood setting along with candles

casting a flickering light
over the makeshift dungeon
free will a distant memory
once you chose to enter

I am sovereign, absolute
void of negotiation
in this closeted world
of no compromise

you serve at my pleasure
hint of defiance in your eyes
will get you shackled, bound,
whipped until tears pool

holes exist to be filled
fucked unmercifully
or filled with fiendish
mechanisms keeping you

hovering around release
but no climactic moans
without your Liege’s nod
increasing your indebtedness

I only attract; I don’t persuade
with one promise
marks will fade
long before memories