Her Name Is Calla - Maw
A Pyre's meant for burning
And that's just what she'll do
There was nothing we could.
The Mead abets the Maw
And writes its sentence out
There was nothing I could.
Fingers fault the loom
Dancers to the blade
There was nothing they could do.
A briquette diaphragm
Drawn taught against the breeze
The was nothing you could do .
Letras Her Name Is Calla