A quite confidence indeed, about to release these intricate little things and at her own bespoke will
Thrilling to behold her utter conversation, men do fold time again aside her inane ability to set them entirely apart from the wonder boys
Man-childs’ forever sat atop lacklustre toys – she’s been stealing the whole tapestried thing, sending us all sorts of high-wire insane
This face is painted upon, forever on song, pondering for the pair of us right across the wholesome board – everyone’s her only one
Turn your back on her and she will indeed tear you to gladrag pieces ’til gasping, altogether grasping, for any such breath
You’ve been permanently tagged and there’s no going back, a threat that needs to be wholeheardly sounded out
When Devils start to amount to absolutely nothing
And we do love to watch them burn right by the thirsty surface of their hateful faces, fate the wickedest sonofabitch in the whole torn world