Godmother

Just call me god, or call me mother: either way, you're not wrong
I run the house: the house of Hedon where the freaks all belong
The wine is high; the beds are heavy with some very good friends
This is the house where the pleasure never ends

We cherish every breathless moment like we're on our death rope
Oh ma cherie, it gets so easy when you give up all hope

For there are angels in our bad angles, my dear
It's a lovely way to kill the fear

If you should chafe at how your life is always buttoned so tight
Come find yourself (and several others) under cover of night
You're not a wife, you're not a mother: let's no longer pretend
Here in the house where the pleasure never ends

We are the light that chases every lying shadow away
To leave the truth: that we will everyone be shambling some day

But there are roses that bloom on bodies
And salves to absolve us of all our little follies
And love will find us a-sleeping together
Our hearts bound up in a skein of wet leather
And this shall be our sweet prison forever and ever, my friends
Here in the house where the pleasure never ends