| Howitzer glare and spitfire blade
|
| Wooed by Dresden serenades
|
| Her soundtrack now a bombing raid
|
| Bored of vaudeville
|
| God was six days sober
|
| On the night that she was born
|
| To the glistening star of a bible class
|
| An icon now in religious porn
|
| She was Alice through the gloryhole
|
| An ejaculate misconception
|
| Disney-esque, the high priestess
|
| Of greed and deepest dark deception
|
| All best to bury whims
|
| For Miss Libertina Grimm
|
| She, that little red riding crop
|
| Brer Werewold at her stocking tops
|
| Beneath the tightened leather strop
|
| Of the basque of the houndervilles
|
| At the stroke of midnight come
|
| She polished verse and hearses
|
| In a poisonous pen dipped in omen
|
| To her surgeon full of general curses
|
| In the hand of morgue redeemers
|
| Though the dead always pleased her more
|
| Squatting in their coffins
|
| Flirting curtsies to the thirteenth floor
|
| Tip your hats
|
| For sweet Libertina Grimm
|
| Fantasy and candy stores
|
| Snow white and the seven straws
|
| Smoke and mirrors on all fours…
|
| Libertina Grimm
|
| Her brothers grim, her sisters through
|
| The final dance will be the cue
|
| She amputates to fit the shoe
|
| Libertina Grimm
|
| Libertina Grimm
|
| Mystery kindled in a blackened room
|
| Nine candles lit to improve the gloom
|
| She sees the dark as she feels womb
|
| Full of hidden secrets
|
| They haunt her heart, those precious few
|
| Those Count Lestats and Betty Blues
|
| Those tortured souls just like me and you
|
| Full of hidden secrets
|
| No, don’t go
|
| Don’t you leave me
|
| So alone
|
| Libertina
|
| No, don’t you go
|
| Don’t you leave me here
|
| So alone
|
| Where the dead are free to roam |