Wednesday 2am

 

Send the stones, a talisman

Almost gone, pour scorn upon

Pour my scorn upon you

 

Divided by the child inside

All will die beside my pride

The Bull bows down before me

 

Your crowning hour in my year

I become the thing you fear

Though you would keep me near

Keep me here

 

Who will cry, who will cry?

My troubles all are gone

Who has won, who has won?

 

Your crowning hour in my year

I become the thing you fear

Though you would keep me near

Keep me here