Janks (The)
The Willow Song
The poor little soul sat sighing aloneBeneath the sycamore treeQuivering shoulders, under coversIn the bed where he dreamsThe cold sweat seeps into his browHis fearful mind will sift the groundWhile she watches from the shadows of the willow treeHeaven help me free my voice and screamSuccubus is raping meThe whites of her eyes are thereBut I still can't see her faceThe poor little soul sat crying aloneBeneath the sycamore treeSinking slowlyThrough the portalIn the bed where he dreamsThe branches reach to pull him downTo join the roots beneath the groundWhile she watches from the shadows of the willow treeWhere can he be?Heaven help me free my voice and screamSuccubus is raping meThe whites of her eyes are thereBut I still can't see her face, ah
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