She's a cold cash canary, a woman of depth and skill,
With only one sentence to stand by; do what you will.
It's like a plague full of warmth and desire when you feel her embrace,
But quickly she'll cut off her hair and restructure her face.

She goes for a stroll. You patrol; just making sure.
Can she be trusted? You question; the answer's obscured.
The first in a series of gifts. No obligation to try.
But the fact of the act will retract any offers applied.

O sing of mercy and a blessed reunion ,
To the woman who drew blood at your first communion.
Bow to the succubus who toyed with your soul,
And instead of a kiss on the cheek just went and swallowed you whole.

Sometimes even fairytale women are given a second chance.
But don't expect to interject the disrespect that came from my glance.
Empathy, sympathy, apathy, anything goes.
It's all been promised here before, if you still believe in all of those.

O sing of mercy and a blessed reunion ,
To the woman who drew blood at your first communion.
Bow to the succubus who toyed with your soul,
And instead of a kiss on the cheek just went and swallowed you whole.