I grew up in a dead relic culture Sometimes I wonder if I am to abide by My Mans law
Wandering so delicately I am becoming Mother Nature slowly reclaiming
Ivory castles Fragrance of frankincense Dissolving lies with butterfly nets That were weaved so faithfully by dear Penelope In midnights past Made from her silk tears and cobwebs crystal clear
Every now and then I catch me a clever man
Laying and lying in fields with My Man Les Fleur Sauvage Telling him my visions of Eastern catastrophes
For eight days My Baby you won’t be able to find me I’ll be planting White Lilies in the Red Caves in my dreams
And I have seen the futures Tasted the fear Watched the Angels cry their fiery tears
The road to heaven is paved with bad intentions
And Dear Lord When I do get to Hell Please let me bring My Man He’s a real ******* We’re gonna burn hand in hand