Fray (Working Title)

A song about about a dead girl and some other things

My sweet baby girl, how your face is so hard

Stoic and calloused

Wreathed in Digitalis

Unflinching in your masonry garb

How your sweet bones now are drying

In gravel and cement, too

How terribly I rent you

And left your body there lying

Here upon this stale fallow

Cherubs lamenting soft and shallow 

Cracked and crying soaking in summer's rain 

Just like blood lulling down the drain

O Leda of the lands, what furrows your brow

The swan has come and shorn your sweet feather down

Feather down

Feather down

Come down from your high horse and romp in the hay 

Borne from the land the fruits of your fair sex 

All the pretty petals will float and will fray

Your guts are painted in sweet arabesque

The fairest flower soonest fades

But still the prettiest ivy will blindly rise

And fray

And fray