Will Ever There be a Love So Free?

A libertine sensualist with a ravishing appetite,
I consume here his seed with licentious delight.
He is an offering to the gods, a bacchanalian delight,
And he lies here before me, this wondrous sight.

Yet this ravagement of his spirit did to me secure
A lustful desire given rise to procure
A fair, virt'ous maiden, buxom yet pure.
And ever ripe for the plucking, this angel I assured
That God calls me to do this, my rod swift and sure.
However, I now see fear has entered her head,
Her countenance in anguish as I tie her to the bed.
And now is my arrow, upon seeing such dread,
Eagerly poised at the poor girl's maidenhead.
Then do I thrust deep
And burrow into that dark and dampened hole,
Which I find has given cause there now
For the blood to overflow.
The crimson blood that will stain
her sheet of virgin snow
An everlasting stain of dry, blackened coal...
And an everlasting reminder of the loss of her soul.

Yet still with my dagger do I thrust high and true,
And there at her bloodied gateway
I do her through and through.
And when I am finished with this sluttish whore
Will I send her home crying, booted out of my door.
For true love is an expense I can ill not afford.

Ah, but sex is a mystery, a game always new;
With prizes all treasured, and rules that are few.
And the partners engaged with voracious and lewd,
Yet they fulfill this man's hunger
But for a moment or two.

As for now I take leave, I'm sure you won't mind;
And who knows, this time
Perhaps a bitch-hound I'll find.
I'll sneak up behind her and grab from behind
Then wantonly, shamelessly, debauch her in kind.
And then when I'm done with her, I'll cast her aside,
For true love's expensive, a timely investment,
And really, I'm fine, I'm really content
With my life, with my sex, and tho true love is absent
I dare not wont to lament.
Anyhow, I've not the time;
I've not, you know.
No time at all,
None, don't you see?