Incantations And Cinnamon Oil

Incantations and cinnamon oil cooking Pressure heating on the stove Makes-my-heartbreak like dry sticks Hoping something sticks Circulation is rising My eyeballs are bubbling For another garlic clove And this temptress without any clothes And another opium arsenic kiss This-ain't-any Mary Magdalene And that's for sure And I think I'm going straight to hell Slowly—I'm sure I'll slip away like a pimp at her door Another ragged creature turned out at dawn Half-crazed, diseased with no pillow to lay-on Like potbellied pig Without as much as a side of bacon to cling-on Or a bed of straw Something must-be-confessed But I've given up all my virtues to howl at the moon And wear my cowl and herculean dig To lift my heart like a crucifix stone So if you see me like suds turning away Down another rat-infested hole Don't forget to wave and say hello And hear me howl at the moon And be grateful you've still got You're sinless harmless soul It must be great to be a judge and a lawyer And pass o heathen sinner and say hi 'Do I smell something cooking? '