@ARTIST: Hefner
@SONG:   Broodmare

   Those prying eyes are vultures eyes, your face I should be hiding.
   At last I am confiding in you.
   Your deeds are full of worthiness but end in abstract emptiness youre
   going to die a witchs death its true.
   And if one of us should chance to die, the other only has to mourn,
   Grief could be the one true feeling death it seems the only answer.
   Disapointed tired sweetheart you wont be the one to depart,
   killing yous the only thing to do.
   Jesus knows that Ill be saved, I want the water in which you bathed,
   The love I felt is just no there, I confess I used you as a Broodmare.
   Every one hates newly weds and everybody goes to bed with someone no
   less pretty then themselves,
   burying the venom in a caskett six feet under when you wake up from
   your slumber watch your back.
   you could cut the air with a knife in here or cut your throat from ear
   to ear,
   For the glory of our new born child please dont weep and please dont
   cry,
   Theres still a trace of lust for you but I no longer trust in you,
   Ill miss you when your buried in that box.
   Wont let anybody burn my wicker girl
   (Geek fact: Thats not Ant playing drums but Suzzanne Rhatigan)