If you attempt to dismember me
I will not sit passively
I’ll sharpen my tongue
I’ll sever the cord
That restrains my song.
You flay then slay the beast
On which we feast
We dine with the priest
From whom festivities flow.
‘Til we bite into his heart
And no guest moves
They glance at the clock
Make their excuses and go.


%d bloggers like this: