From the recordings The Calendar Princess and Beefcake Madness

He's a testifier. With a teste fire.


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