Those prying eyes are vultures eyes, your face I should be
hiding. At last I am confiding in you. Your deeds are full of
worthiness but end in abstract emptiness you’re goingto die a
witch’s death it’s true. And if one of us should chance to die,
the other only has to mourn, Grief could be the one true feeling
death it seems the only answer. Disapointed tired sweetheart you
won’t be the one to depart, killing you’s the only thing to do.
Jesus knows that I’ll be saved, I want the water in which you
bathed, The love I felt is just no there, I confess I used you
as a Broodmare. Every one hates newly weds and everybody goes to
bed with someone no less prettythen themselves, burying the venom
in a caskett six feet under when you wake up from your
slumberwatch your back. you could cut the air with a knife in
here or cut your throat from ear to ear, For the glory of our
new born child please don’t weep and please don’tcry, There’s
still a trace of lust for you but I no longer trust in you, I’ll
miss you when your buried in that box. Won’t let anybody burn my
wicker girl
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