The Necklace

Hey, little white girl
Crawl in your canteen
He shed it all, all for you
Some boy he turned out to be
Growing dry
And black as rye
You save them up
And you pinch them down
You‚d have them all
For a necklace sewn
Unstab your hands from your lungs
What need you fear, his royal tear?
My ebony ring
Is changing
Paravele
Paravele
He brought a gold chain
In a camel‚s mouth
For such a long pane of glass-flesh
I see your veins underneath
And should you stir
A pannish glimmer
In brushing past
The wake of your fast
I can‚t agree with anything
Show me infinity
To make him a monarchy
My ebony ring
Is changing
Paravele
Paravele
A minister laughs
A banner chaffs
To challenge a love‚s nativity
Some boy he turned out to be
His foreign hem
Arranging them