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Underthings
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Feast of the Calf
Pantagruel, awake, for it is dusk Fire glows crimson on the sands The butchers rest with reddened hands The smoke of sacrifice ascends To please the gods!
Bees from the hive, sting you awake But leave you sweet, with golden dust They mean to prick your appetite Goad your throat to lust
Your belly trembles at the scent At table it is president The purple sash around your girth Circumnavigates the earth
The groaning cart has come for you The ox is decked with scarlet flowers The fat is hissing on the fire Warm bread perfumes the air Find more lyrics at ※ Mojim.com
The moon shines bright upon the beach Musicians rent the air A sword will serve you for a knife A pitchfork combs your hair
Let hatchet broach the cask of wine Let black juice fill the bowl Let steaming meat stand piled high Smoking innards crown it all Was there ever any world of such abundance!
Pantagruel, awake, for it is dawn Fire glows crimson on the sands The butchers rest with reddened hands The smoke of sacrifice ascends To please the gods!
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