Witchtits

Sign in ichor down this page
My tiny red book, the bottom's nearly dried
It's both a form of fetid exudate
And pact ink pure as your beloved Christ
Blow him a kiss for me

Dressed up in scarlet watered silk
The tasting of burgundy
A wax vermillion seal along the scroll
Lick my ass and you'll return the flavour
When being fit to soundly sleep
This ring so sweet without seasoning

I stamp 'em evenly with fearsome cries
Kids so unemotional
A witching teat, behold

Pay up later: your life in full
Mephisto keeps these haters close
Our tattooed deal agreed and ratified
Tiny letters, scribbled riddles fiddled with a plume

Could it be this prison cruel?
An office where my tigers bloom
Here through the cracks I keep them illuminated
Nourished on my shiny fluids



Credits
Writer(s): Orson Wouters, Lukas Hermans, Ruben Paul F Mertens
Lyrics powered by www.musixmatch.com

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