Your voice rests inside of my head
A bell rings in my ear
Mumbled jumble of sorcery
None of which is clear
Yet somehow I find a trust for you
As if your love has always been near
But I have realized you are none other
Than the rest of men I hold dear
So whilst you lay in your garden
As you wait for me to approach
Broach of all that was evil is now a slit your throat
For every flail cuts deeper
Expelled by a choke
Protruding man-spoken boundaries hold such a feminine note