Sibilant and macabre
Walpurgis sauntered in
Skies lighten 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's 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 rip of her tongue
The restless spirit of Christmas to come
A Gretel sick of merely sucking her thumb
Than 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 gown

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 innocence, 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

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 fire-lit 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 case
Espied by her cross on the wall
And should she awake, through embrace or mistake
She would take Jesus, blessed 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, born, born
Born in a burial gown
She was born, born, born, born
Born in a burial gown
Born in a burial gown