You called it our baby And I sung it into life The first word in its ear The song of all our strife.
I am the ****** queen No man to make me rule Your underestimated dream girl Your perfect ingenue.
You called the sounds The good sounds And from the rock came death And all the sad destruction And all our baited breath And all the holy discord And every frightened dream And bare breasted, I move on Like water in the stream.
You called me your baby And swan-songed ever sweet I went along with every gamble Til you tasted defeat.
I am the queen of snakes The Pythia, obscured The maiden, mother, mistress, crone The one that’s never heard.
You called my body A celestial body And from the sky came rain And in the eclipsing silence You never heard my pain And all the holy hatred And all the washed up dreams And now, I alone move on, Like water in the stream.
Sweet Pythia, I’m burning And I must find the way The lonely heart has never learned How to make him stay.
But he is not contention He is only choice The songs I sang for many men Only make him love my voice.
And you call these sounds The good sounds When the good sounds please you best The sounds when they adore you Not the aggressive ‘I digress’ And all the holy Heras And all the built in rust And I, without armies win battles And you without care, **** trust.
I am the mistress, maiden, crone All dolly-eyed and blue Your manic little angel Your perfect ingenue.
I am the maiden, mother, crone And now apart from you Because no one is anything And nothing you heard is true.