Skin the meat, shatter stones,
Scorch our shadows, crack my bones.
Suns and thunder - grip me tightly!
Squeeze me harder, scream so brightly.
Sweat is mud, the wounds are holes,
At the pig’s squeal, we lose our souls:
Shed your blood, sell its pearls
To adorn my hair as it unfurls.
New flames pulse; they glow a-gold;
Beseech the moon to never grow cold.
Whilst my mate sings, madly enthralled,
Praising the muck through which she crawled.