The lie within a sadomasochistic ritual.
Sitting in the green room, lights turned low, Janey in the doorway, waiting for the blow. Slowly she enters the blackness that is I. We come together, lost in the lie. The lie that is us, what we have become, born in the rhythm of the beating drum. The beating drum, the beating drum, born in the rhythm of the beating drum. When it began, it felt so right, covered in darkness, never seeing the light. We waited in the green room, hearing cries above, Janey in the doorway waiting for some love. But always as she entered the blackness that is I, we came together, we were lost in the lie. And now as we come together as one, the only sound heard is the beating of the drum. We were born in the rhythm of the beating drum. We can't get away from the screaming of the drum. We can't hide from the whispering of the drum. There is no escape from the calling of the drum. The only sound heard is the beating of the drum.
Music: Ram
Lyrics: Maureen, Lynn, and Ram