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God's work is planned.
I stand here with a man that talked to me so candidly,
more than I'd choose.

My lips once rouged,
I feel again the blues of longing, ever longing, to be
confused.

He wrote me a letter,
saying he would love me better.
Then my poor sons begetter the rules.

Spoke of love like hunger;
he at once was younger. Younger, ever younger, in my
hunger for a muse.

Finest man that I've seen ever since my eyes have been,
but his honesty did gleam me blind.

Keep those thoughts from sight.
Follow me into the night.
You can call on me when you need the light.

You know what I need.
Why won't you give it me?
Must I fall down at your feet and plead?

Don't you be scared of me.
I'm nothing but the beast.
And I'll call on you when I need to feast.

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