This is the sound of skin against skin,
This is a lover giving in,
This is a lost soul, falling into sin,
This is his master's smirk at another win.
But turn the other cheek, my pet,
You might win this futile game yet.
A subtle laugh, a quiet grin,
The cycle starts over again.
Here we see the master, safe in his command,
But here we see him kissing his own master's hand,
Bowing and scraping, with a hand on his head,
Even this powerful man is a slave, in his master's bed.
Come to me, Reno, you know your master's voice,
The blond is quiet, as though Reno even has a choice.
It's easy to pretend, when you've been bought and sold,
That the hand that betrayed you isn't cruel and cold.
