shes got a fan of black feathers
She shakes black feathers.
Turns them alive.
Spins out pleasure.
I don't care if I survive.
I touch the feathers.
She shakes them harder.
We’re together
But still parted.
She talks to the feathers.
I talk to her.
I call her, “forever”.
She calls them, “monsieur”.
She shakes black feathers.
I'm gettin' through.
It’s now or never.
It’s die or do.
She wears a mask.
Covers her eyes.
No easy task
To see behind her disguise.
She wears a mask.
Throws it to the floor.
I don’t know what to ask
Or do anymore.
She wears gloves.
Conceal her hands.
Not even the lord above
Can help me understand.
She’s got the hands of a saint.
Gloves stay on.
I could start to paint
Those hands and never be done.
She shakes black feathers.
Been here before.
I didn’t think that I ever
Would come back for more.
But I just can’t drop it.
And it’s not like it’s black leather.
I just can’t stop it.
I'm a sucker for black feathers.