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• Artiste: Rabbitology
• Titre: Butcheress
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Agnus Dei, he made and ate of me This church It was once a barn, they say Perfume of myrrh And swine manure forever curse this place When church bells chime They rattle loose rooster plumes and hay Proving you can sure as hell try But your past never scrubs away God birthed me cursed So I asked the Father how I could be saved, he said “He birthed you perfect, for God makes no mistakes" "But to thе farmer’s daughter My heart is tеthered, and I think we’re soulmates" So in the same breath, he said “Then you better repent every day” I made myself my I made myself my butcheress Wiping blood down the front of my nice white dress Took a cleaver, carved my heart out For a taste of claimed saintliness At the hand of a holy man who never fully gave a damn I became a butcheress Had I different skin, I’d get to pickin’ her cornflower bouquets Or kissin’ in stables, bare backs scrapin’ ‘gainst hay But I’m no man, no butcher boy, just flesh and blood and shame So I take a meat hammer and bash my legs ‘till I forget her name I made myself my I made myself my butcheress Wiping blood down the front of my nice white dress Took a cleaver, carved my heart out For a taste of claimed saintliness At the hand of a holy man who never fully gave a damn I became a butcheress I pass the farmer’s daughter, on the way to work every dawn Between us hums our forgotten song of God If this church was once a barn, like they said Could this church ever be a barn again? Could a girl unlearn false cries to sin? Could a butcher shed her lamb’s bloodied skin? If this church was once a barn, like they said Could this church ever be a barn again? Could a girl unlearn false cries to sin? Could a butcher shed her lamb’s bloodied skin? Agnus Dei, he made and ate of me I made myself my I made myself my butcheress Wiping blood down the front of my nice white dress Took a cleaver, carved my heart out For a taste of claimed saintliness At the hand of a holy man who never fully gave a damn I became a butcheress