Your beauty is a beast
When you unleash it on me
I become one too
There's no telling what I would do
Your beauty is a beast
It's not an illness not a curse
It's not the body in the back of the hearse
That breaks free from its bonds and leaps out the back
No your beauty is a lot of things but it's not that
It's the crack of lightning too close to my stand
It's the weight of the whip in the tired woman's hand
It's the reek of yearning and the sweet smell of rust
Your beauty is a gambling man going for bust
I grow fangs I can't sleep I can't talk I can't eat
I feel you breathing across the sea
Of our kitchen our backyard and our living room
Your beauty is a beast
When you unleash it on me
I become one too
There's no telling what I would do
Your beauty is a beast
Not out to get me not out to bleed me dry
Not out to forget me and bit out to see me cry
Whole in itself and able to survive
In its own time
In its own light
Your beauty is a beast
when you unleash it on me
I become one too
There's no telling what I would do
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