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She had nut painted arms |
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That were hers to keep |
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And in her fear |
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She sought cracked pleasures |
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The passion of lovers is for death said she |
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Licked her lips |
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And turned to feather |
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And as I watched from underneath |
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I came aware of all that she keep |
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The little foxes so safe and sound |
|
They were not dead |
|
They'd gone to ground |
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The passion of lovers is for death said she |
|
The passion of lovers is for death |
|
The passion of lovers is for death said she |
|
The passion of lovers is for death |
|
She breaks her hear |
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Just a little too much |
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And her jokes attract the lucky bad type |
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As she dips and wails |
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And slips her banshee smile |
|
She gets the better of the bigger to the letter |
|
The passion of lovers is for death said she |
|
The passion of lovers is for death |
|
The passion of lovers is for death said she |
|
The passion of lovers is for death |
|
The passion of lovers is for death said she |
|
The passion of lovers is for death |
|
The passion of lovers is for death said she |
