As the sun rose in the east
The wickedness of night began to cease
And all of those unholy deeds
Rumors on which the gossipers feast
Accusations later to be denied
Over cups of tea
Among knitting wives
And as the sun lowers in the west
The righteous and upright garner more to confess

My skins got ribs
All neat in a row
Some criss cross
Others straight as a bone
My skins got ribs
But it's still pretty thin
Just a small cut
Continues to rip
And as I grip the flesh
And rip it apart
Giving you a perfect view
Of my beating heart
My skins got ribs
And when things get hard
I add a few more
They're my work of art