Well, little ****** had been caught in a maze
she married Mr. Cat in their honeymoon phase
On their little farm, a dish they would raise
but the cow and the dog, well they bet on days...

Little ****** knew about the Fiddle and the Cat
and she swore to herself that she would get them back
So, one night she popped up in the middle
and mean old Mr. Cat made a killer out of ******

"Woah! My perfect life!" She cried out with tears in her eyes
"Tell me, what I did wrong!" But a moo and a cackle interrupted her song

On the little farm
the dog and the cow
looked innocent as they lay on the ground
but ****** saw the cow jump to the moon
to see ****** **** the man that had made her swoon

The dog laughed and laughed 'til his face turned red
the cow paid in full as he had won the bet
The sound made ******
itch in the head
so she took a nearby ax and she
killed them dead

"Woah! My perfect life!" She cried out with tears in her eyes
"Tell me, what did I do?"
But she had no clue as to what would happen soon

Well little miss Dish was the talk of the town
Her and the Spoon had been forkin' around
When momma ****** tried to hunt them down
her baby Dish was nowhere to be found

"Woah! My perfect life! Shouldn't have been a mom or a wife"
So a traveler she became, making Goose her name
The towns had no idea of the words that they sang:

"Hey ****** ******, the Cat and the Fiddle
The cow
jumped over the moon
The little dog laughed to see such sport
and the Dish ran away with the Spoon"

I didn't think danger had a face,
I saw you and I saw red beauty,
Plump, ripe lips,
My strawberry kiss,
You taste just like chaos feels.

You sold yourself sweet,
Red beauty,
In every book left unread,
The only thought in my head.
I could never find a warm lover,
In eyes, cold as these tombstones
Which we now embrace.

Sunsets asphyxiate skylines,
Tear lines, fate lines,
I think God wanted to see his favourite fall

Tantalizing fruit, stains like wine
On the mouth,
There is red beauty in a kiss,
And angels aren't so kind,
But neither are you.

We were born with no sight,
We see danger, in no fight.
Our blindness is not clear of color,
But rather of mind, of action, of other.
Some do realize,
Their often loss of sight,
But as they lay down,
They dream of nothing at night.
When we go up into,
The so called 'blinding' sun,
We regain our strengths,
And sight is merely one.
So if seeing is believing,
And true sight comes in final chapters,
We should all be humbly grieving,
And asking wisdom now, not after.

Dazzle down my vision,
My concrete velvet need.
I am a flower,
A flower which must bleed
slow colors over
a warm, wild secret.
As my petals drain to white,
I lose the strength to fight
I submit out of
this built in, beautiful necessity
and I wonder if you'll keep it.