The Last Young Widow

Angel females Treat her as a sister Share with her your harp like whispers Wear runs down her face If lace was a sound She would hear the clouds Clear and loud But not the thunder But not the thunder Angel females Is this your low? Angel females Is this your low? Is this your low? Worn thin, less than lace She's a good age In comfort, end comfort And come down just a little bit lower Piercing horns Slits in the sky are torn Licking her lips Defeat her Defeat her Whipping tail Hits like heaven's hail She's a good age Kissing their feet Angel females Is this your low? Is this your low? Conceive her Honor is her cry Conceive her Honor is her cry Conceive her Honor is her cry Conceive her Conceive her Conceive her Conceive her