Broodmare

Those prying eyes are vultures eyes, your face I should be hiding
At last I am confiding in you
Your deeds are full of worthiness but end in abstract emptiness you’re going to
die a witch’s death it’s true
And if one of us should chance to die, the other only has to mourn
Grief could be the one true feeling death it seems the only answer
Disapointed tired sweetheart you won’t be the one to depart
Killing you’s the only thing to do
Jesus knows that I’ll be saved, I want the water in which you bathed
The love I felt is just no there, I confess I used you as a Broodmare
Every one hates newly weds and everybody goes to bed with someone no less
pretty then themselves
Burying the venom in a caskett six feet under when you wake up from your
slumber watch your back
You could cut the air with a knife in here or cut your throat from ear to ear
For the glory of our new born child please don’t weep and please don’t cry
There’s still a trace of lust for you but I no longer trust in you
I’ll miss you when your buried in that box
Won’t let anybody burn my wicker girl