Hot muzzle smell
I will teach you
A brand new spell
It will make you whole again

She tastes like morning dew
Lips a deep red hue
He licks her neck again
Drink from the bottom shelf
Drinking to your health
God twists the knife again

What else can I say?
Et tu, Brute?
Sing songs to the king
Sad in a haze of wine
He walks in the garden
Whispering rhymes
Beneath his breath

Golden seraphim statues
Dance for a sad king
He twists his ring
Wishing

Then there on the roof
A woman bathing
She hums his favorite tune
Beneath the moon