Fingersmith

I am a murderess’ daughter
Though my skin shine pale
My thoughts run dark
And I take my pleasure from
Taking that very same pleasure from you

But soon I am to learn
That the captor becomes her prisoner
For that which you hold back in another dear
You surely do stifle and strangle in yourself

My love is a game
No-one can play
So there’s nothing left in loving me
And you know baby-oh!
Where I go
So there’s nothing left in loving you