The Crop And The Pest - текст песни
The Crop And The Pest
Come away
Come away with me,
You perfect, perfect shell
You nautilus, nautilus
I will treat you so well
I'll take you up from this hell
My gracious host,
you're my lover
won't you be my concubine?
The pleasure's all mine
Your pleasures are all mine
To twist and turn around
In figure eights and out of place
Refuse the bounty of his right for the hunger of his left hand
I'm the fervor of the fever you can't sweat
I'm the garments, stuck to your skin, drenched and dripping wet
I'm a spring of flowing fume and fret
A barren spring
Of fume and fret is coursing its' way through everything
Inside of me
And I know what won't ever sink
Will slowly swim
To the bottom
Just promise not to see me as I am (Or what I'll become)
A pestilential scab
The scarlet of sunburned skin
I will stick to you like a wet cloth (You just can't shed)
I will cling to you like a child to his mother's breast
You fertile crop,
I won't be shed.
I saw my shining shield and armor rust
I felt my posture bow and fall to dust
But all the vigils, and the stakes I claimed
Couldn't take the sting from out my shame
Couldn't take the color from the stain
That I became
The stain that I became
I'm the fervor of the fever you can't sweat
I'm the garments, stuck to your skin, drenched and dripping wet
I'm a spring of flowing fume and fret
I'm the melody stuck inside your head
What have I become?
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