Womb Of Fire

She draws her weapon elegantly and places it upon her lips

Now her words shine the Red and the scent of roses

Come let her take you by her little white hands

And guide you to the fields of calla lilies

Let the fiery reds muffle your eyes

Inspect her neck and see all the precious ornaments

You know you're going to be the one in the middle of her chest.

The one between her breasts as she stands over you in complete confidence.

There is no need for knights in shining armor

They'll only rust in her water

See the pilings at her feet

We are expendable bags of meat

Womb of Fire.