Burnt maroon
A hidden secret is the cure
For those who are demure
It might be mine
It may be your
Thirst over lacy gore
When the flesh of a dear
Tied with lace , bows, and more
Begging you to open that door
Snowy white, rusty chains core
Open that basement door
Forget the way you feel sore
For there I never asked for war
After all that shedding
My skin he wore
