Sibilant and macabre, Walpurgis sauntered in
Skies litten with five-pointed stars, the work of crafts surpassing sin
As she graced her window ledge, an orphaned gypsy nymph
This issue of the forest bed, skin flushed with sipped absinthe
Her eyes revealed as Brocken's peak, tried once concealing Hell
A snow white line of divine freaks, in riot, where they fell
The circus lurches in, a ring of promised delight
For seven days and seven festival nights
What wicked wonders lie within the confines of the panther's den
She watches from a maypole, on the tip of her tongue
The restless spirits of a Christmas to come
A Gretel sick of merely sucking her thumb of gingerbread men
Spawned, scorned, abhorred by the aerial
She was the light of the world going down
War-torn, forlorn and malarial
She was found born in a burial gown
Born in a burial gown
Born in a burial...
Unloosed the chain of her God-given cross
Seduced, now pagan ribbons swathe her repose
In a carnival of souls sold and similarly lost
Too many decades misfit and mislaid
So innocent, a tender legend of prey
Parades her second coming, now they're running afraid
Spawned, scorned, abhorred by the aerial
She was the light of the world going down
War-torn, forlorn and malarial
She was found born in a burial gown
She was born, born in a burial gown
She was born, born in a burial gown
Now she moves with a predator's guile
Beyond the firelit circle of life
She soothes your cold heart for a while
Then matches its beat, synching in with a knife
She wrestles her dreams with a delicate ease
Espied by her cross on the wall
And should she awake through embrace or mistake
She would take Jesus blest foot forward and all
Sibilant and at last the circus crawled away
With another lover in its arms dancing on her grave
Born
Born, born forlorn
Born in a burial gown
She was born, born forlorn
Born in a burial gown
Born in a burial gown
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