4 Envy (because defective) between 2 Pride and 1 Wrath (at imperfection)
Marry me I may be a lie
Marry me tell me the date that I die
Who's got our future little one
Will there be a honeymoon little one
Please lie! Please lie!
But if memories could walk
Boy I'd lay awake nights
Now I can't go home anymore little one
Now I don't mind chopping wood
But the memory don't do no-one no good
"See there's this girl
I just can't keep from
And hungry lie in wait for her shadow
To cross the window frame
Alight upon the venetian blind
Hoping for just one good claim
Upon that ectoplasmic stain!
And make her mine! Make her mine!
This kind of thing happens all the time"
(Small dark hole in the soul and
Loathe to touch me)
Marry me I may be a lie
Marry me tell me the date that I die
Who's got our future little one?
Will there be a honeymoon little one
Please lie! Please lie!
Make a pillow for my head
Fallen leaves will be my bed
When I die don't bury me alone
'Cos I don't think I'd take to kind
To the cold cold earth
Down full fathom five
This kind of thing happens all the time
Re: Type 4 Envy
Posted: Tue Dec 28, 2021 11:26 am
by Roshan
I am a crooked man
And i've walked a crooked mile
Night, the shameless widow
Doffed her weeds, in a pile
The stars all winked at me
They shamed a child
Your funeral, my trial
A thousand marys lured me
To feathered beds and fields of glover
Bird with crooked wing cast
It's wicked shadow over
A bauble moon did mock
And trinket stars did smile
Your funeral, my trial
Here i am, little lamb...
Let all the bells in whoredom ring
All the crooked bitches that she was
(Mongers of pain)
Saw the moon
Become a fang
Your funeral, my trial
Down the road I look and there runs Mary
Hair of gold and lips like cherries
We go down to the river where the willows weep
Take a naked root for a lovers seat
That rose out of the bitten soil
But bound to the ground by creeping ivy coils
Oh Mary you have seduced my soul
And I don't know right from wrong
Forever a hostage of your child's world
And then I ran my tin-cup heart along
The prison of her ribs
And with a toss of her curls
That little girl goes wading in
Rollin her dress up past her knee
Turning these waters into wine
Then she platted all the willow vines
Mary in the shallows laughing
Over where the carp dart
Spooked by the new shadows that she cast
Across these sad waters and across my heart