Born In a Burial Gown

Sibilant and macabre, Walpurgis sauntered in Skies litten with five-pointed stars, the work of crafts surpassing sin As she graced her window ledge, an orphaned gypsy nymph This issue of the forest bed, skin flushed with sipped absinthe Her eyes revealed as Brocken's peak, tried once concealing Hell A snow white line of divine freaks, in riot, where they fell The circus lurches in, a ring of promised delight For seven days and seven festival nights What wicked wonders lie within the confines of the panther's den She watches from a maypole, on the tip of her tongue The restless spirits of a Christmas to come A Gretel sick of merely sucking her thumb of gingerbread men Spawned, scorned, abhorred by the aerial She was the light of the world going down War-torn, forlorn and malarial She was found born in a burial gown Born in a burial gown Born in a burial... Unloosed the chain of her God-given cross Seduced, now pagan ribbons swathe her repose In a carnival of souls sold and similarly lost Too many decades misfit and mislaid So innocent, a tender legend of prey Parades her second coming, now they're running afraid Spawned, scorned, abhorred by the aerial She was the light of the world going down War-torn, forlorn and malarial She was found born in a burial gown She was born, born in a burial gown She was born, born in a burial gown Now she moves with a predator's guile Beyond the firelit circle of life She soothes your cold heart for a while Then matches its beat, synching in with a knife She wrestles her dreams with a delicate ease Espied by her cross on the wall And should she awake through embrace or mistake She would take Jesus blest foot forward and all Sibilant and at last the circus crawled away With another lover in its arms dancing on her grave Born Born, born forlorn Born in a burial gown She was born, born forlorn Born in a burial gown Born in a burial gown