New gonna give up,

Never gonna step down

Never let you chain me,

The air was thick in my lungs, cigarette smoke and something heavier hung I the air like a noxious fog. The crowd moved around me, churning and dark, the dim light and the occasionally strobe never cast a light to them. They were ghosts and phantoms, twisting through the mist, clinging to me, tugging at my sleeves, at my hair. They whispered to me, tempting me. But I resisted.

But you know what you do to me baby,

You make me, you make me, ca-ca-crazy,

You were never easy, never a lady,

The sea of bodies just seemed to move faster and faster to the ponding beat, the words from the speakers were like murmurs into my flesh, for me to feel only. I was pulled and pushed and my stomach churned, I wasn't supposed to be here. What had possessed me to come to this place, this world so foreign to me? It felt like hell, with the heat, and the smell, and the black clad demons twisting around me, demanding payment, demanding I hand over my soul.

Never polite,

Never alright

I tried to pull against them, and push out of this chaos, but I was trapped in this riptide of bodies, and I twisted, trying I vain to break free. But it was impossible in the tight knit bodies; they seemed even denser than a minute before. I felt my side collide with something, an arch of pain lanced up my right, a hard edge digging into my ribs. They music so loud it seemed to tear my resistance apart, teasing the strands of my sanity apart, and I stopped moving and stood still.

You always had to put up a fight,

The voices still whispered through my alcohol clouded brain, calling yelling, a cacophony that shred at my composure and grated my electric nerve endings. But a quiet and clam voice addressed me, it was vaguely familiar and I focused on it, the white noise around me fading and I could only feel the bass humming through the soles of my sneakers for the floor of the club, my own erratic heart beat and labored breath. And that voice. It had a slight accent and is whispered to me, look up, I could almost feel a soft palm caress in my neck, brushing the damp blond hair away from my nape, and it was so much gentler than the other rough grabs I had encountered in the crowd, no bite of nails or teeth. Look up, I felt a warm breathe brush my ear, and I shivered, it was so inviting and so tempting. And I felt the last of my resistance crumble under the sway of this stranger's voice. I looked up.

You made me bend down, you made hang low, you made me, you made me, you made,

I know that was the moment. The moment my life changed, the moment he seized everything in my being and consumed me. I looked up straight into the eyes of the devil. And he looked more like an angel, standing in the pools of light, raised on the stage like a podium; his pale skin glistened with sweat, and his pale blond hair, clung to his temples. And those eye, lined with kohl and framed by a pair of heavy brows, stared right at me, spearing me to the floor. His full lips pulled into an almost smirk; as his hand moved to play the last refrain and the drummer behind him hit the cymbals. And he sang the last line like a promise his eyes never leaving me.

A slave, to your insanity.