Nhoj Morley

 

The Calendar Princess

06:34
06/17/2018

Story

He's a testifier. With a teste fire.

Lyrics

Pounding like thunder from behind the locker door

She is up against the wall while sprawled across the floor

She hangs like dangling fruit and is always on my mind

It's a full frontal attack or I'm taken from behind  

She changes her form in an endless lunar cycle

A full moon shines when the devil's hands are idle

 

All the days of June haunt clear through September

Some months will always always be remembered

She's a tack-hanging predator and no one's toy

only posing as docile and coy… but no

 

Remember what you've been shown

She'll wait til you're alone

then she'll turn your blood to bone!

 

She's got us lads surrounded popping out from every wall

She is draped across the hood and sneaking in the stall

Some keep her at their peril and face a holy dread

If she were found in the closet or hidden under the bed  

I like to keep her whereabouts always in plain sight

If I have to hold a vigil all throughout the night

 

Images of April linger all the way through May

maybe take on the whole year in a single day

I shall have my way and she shall have my will

Is it so she can chalk up one more kill? Cuz I'm beat…

 

She's the huntress of the wankie lads

stalking all the bachelor pads

Or anyone whose got the nads!

 

 

You can walk away

turn your back and say

She is safely tucked away

but she's on the loose and you're the prey

 

Huntress of the wankie lads

Stalking all the bachelor pads

  

She will wait til you're alone

Then she'll turn your blood to bone

 

blood to bone! blood to bone!

good to wood! good to wood!

 

You might think you're the prize

underneath your cozy sheet

In her unblinking eyes

you're just a piece of meat

 

piece of meat! piece of meat!

blood to bone! blood to bone!

 

She will squeak softly and

carry your stick in hand

You'll confess you've been good 

then she'll turn your blood to wood

Figures once you've been shown

You'll be her helpless drone

This is the crime that pays

We'll give her thirty days 

 

I feel I've been robbed

No authorities to turn to

I could call the boys in blue

but they might say me too

She'll never face a redress

Or challenge in the free press

Twelve aliases to hide in 

I may as well stop cryin'

Yet never will I confess

That I left a wee mess… 

 

yes we left a wee mess

on the calendar princess

yes we left a wee mess

on the calendar princess