Pleasure VictimBerlinPleasure VictimWe touched there was temperturei'm not the samenow i'm passing through your doorit's a pleasure gameyou're the object of of my smilei'm a life machinesentimental sound on soundtime to switch the sceneyou're the passion in meyou've broken down the systemyou're the vision i seea pleasure victimsimple figures fill my mindsome i recognizebodies always look the samenever see their eyesto the touch there's always youhow can i erase yourflaming candles, whispered wordsthen your soft embrace