You’ve got bridal dreams
Homemade dress faultless seams
This day is made for you it seems
Caught a glance behind the bridal screen
At the one who bridled me
Her leg upon a chair lifting garters past her knee
Pictures on the bridal green
Look so neat they’re whistling
Fried green tomatoes at the whistle stop
Whistling stops when the bride veil drops
O the mouths that show their shocks
Every beauty heightened in that frock
But what they saw then marriage mocked
Priest near dropped, altar against which he’s propped
A prop in a play the devil bought
Guests I brought fought to get out
You an orphan without guest clout
You have wet blood around your whole mouth
Like you bit a calf in half, couldn’t wait another hour
When you have to go you go
Her go is cannibalism, so it goes
In pleasure’s throes
Hot blood in strings hangs off her nose
Therapy for the wedding goers
No crowd for bouquet throwers.
Alchemisland 
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