Wax in which to dip angel wings
A queen demands roses painted red
Oh love, you peculiar a thing

Words to prick at heart's harp strings
And thorns to catch in the sheets of a bed
A warlord, and carnation-crowned king

In every grain the hourglass flings
Two doves elope and three more lie dead
Oh love, you peculiar a thing

Love, in lighthearted feathers will bring
Bleached petals and thorns to wed
A warlord, and carnation-crowned king

The Phoenix, with it's croaky voice  sings
Of how ashes spoil when love has fled
Oh love, you peculiar a thing

No trust is in the harsh steel of rings
Oh love, you peculiar a thing
A Warlord, and carnation-crowned  King