my favorite song (it's the way we make love).

you sing me my favorite song
and your hands more firmly grip my neck
choke me until my face turns purple's deepest shade
throw me against that wall
{it's the way we make love}
that one with the gaping hole where you threw my head last week
{because i told you i was tired}
then a kick in the ribs
{because i told you i was sorry i'm not perfect}
and you drag my sagging body to the bed
{thump thump says my head as it meets the floor}
you carress my blood and tearstained face
{but i know it's not over}
and it's back to the beating
{it's the way we make love}
just a punch in the face
{i moan like i enjoy it}
and you're singing again
{you're singing me my favorite song to the tune of the death march}