Though Your Body Is Cold...

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Necronatica

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Three drops of sorrow is all yond I can almost did shed
I'm winding up tighter than any thread

As thee did lie on white sheets upon the bed
I can't help but bethink thee behold quite quaint dead

Mine own hand wouldst love to touch thy skin
Mine own head is full of the most atrocious sin

But thou art so bitter cold and won't let me in
And how can a veil of lust be so thin

Thee can not be any fusty'r than ten
The way thy fucking curve is so fucking flirty

And mine own mind is full of images salaciously free
Thou art so so tempting, naked and skirt free

And coequal though I despair to caress thee
Its pointless anon to seek to impress thee

Mine own job is to crisp, arrangeth and dresseth thee
Maketh thee up to behold just liketh the most wondrous doth

But oh, mine own lovely corpse I has a needeth
To seeth thee did bury carrying mine own seed

Nobody shall ever know, for secrecy I plead
Thee shall behold quite quaint in spite of mine own naughty deed

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