Rage On     Words by Laurel Christie Music by Ecstatic Copyright© 2001 Ecstatic Like a subtle annoying itch on the back of the throat, peck pecking tapping fingernail, Leaving pigeonholes in his shoulder blade, and she's wondering about her questions... They are clogged and choked somewhere, between her motor-mouth and her left brain.   I could never ask for more, never give myself such guilty pleasure... I could never hope for more, when it feels to me like you're just giving up. Is it only something sick in the firm belief that it feels much better... I could never ask you to rage on.   And even I know this much is true... it's all messed up!   She remembered him once in hot pursuit dog eat delicious dog... he had chased her down, down, down, He remembered her once, naked, lying vulnerable in the dark... she could rake his back, or pierce his heart,   I could never ask for more, never give myself such guilty pleasure... I could never hope for more, when it feels to me like you're just giving up. Is it only something sick in the firm belief that it feels much better... I could never ask you to rage on.   And even I know this much is true... it's all messed up!