Paroles de The Cruel Mother

Sweet juices, crushed from the fruit run over her lips, Down her breasts, down her body, down between her hips. Strong legs wrap around a tree, squeezes with her thighs. Breathes life through roots with quiet sighs. A child she bears beneath its shade with labour hard and long. A moment's tenderness, a moment's passion, short and sweet the song. She cradles, then buries it beneath the earth, under a drowning moon. Nourishment, blood and bone, for the roots to find. The cruel mother lives in the grove, dancing her life away, Sweet as the juice on a soldier's lips on a summer's day.