‘Twas someone pushing up daisies or kilned to dust ochre and sweet
Someone long past rotten, a meal for maggots pushing peat
‘Twas a one-time eager breeder, a long-confirmed ex-breather
Someone long past forgotten, in an urn or six feet deep
Who told me go to you, who made me take your hand
It was dead souls singing and their wish was my command
Standing there watching from the other side of the river –
Dead souls singing, telling me to be a birth-giver
Willing me into your arms to realize their vision
Pulling out all choral stops to cause a carnal collision
They’ve been at it forever, a conspiracy from the far side
And that’s what gave me the guts to risk a blow to my pride
Sure I love your green eyes and your frog-like fingers kill me
Your smile is pure salvation when I feel I’m on the brink
Your voice warms me like sun, your kisses always fill me
And it feels like I’ve been looking for you as long as I could think
But still... Why did I dive in so deep and then want nothing but more?
Sure you’re comely and smart, but I’d seen comely and smart before
Why’d I jump off that ledge when I’d always veered clear of the edge?
Why did I give you my all when I’d always been a tight-fisted bore?
My great-great-grandmother made me do it, made me give my all
That soul singing pulled my strings, that stiff was my downfall
The wall around my heart couldn’t ward off her siren song
The call of blood in my ears for me was much too strong
Of course I love the way you walk and how you only fish with flies
I love your flesh from toe to ear and the expanse between your eyes
I love the dry martinis you make and the cigarettes you smoke
But that can’t explain why I suddenly found myself going for broke
Nope, that was my great-great-grandfather giving me a shove
When he saw me rambling near the cliff, he saw I could still learn to love
He knew his line would stop with me, if I didn’t get on the stick
So he pushed me off and into your arms, into a love so big it’s sick
Oh those bastards will stop at nothing in their old unholy quest
When it comes to the life of their bloodline, the dead will never rest
They’ll push and press and apply duress to get you to nest and mate
They’ll sing that song till you go along and give in... Give in and procreate