Pearls and Curls

If you are the cold rapier of sovereignty I'm the flames of hell that forge you If you are the spread pallor of night I'm the sleepless soul in your sullen If you are the herald of mishap I'm the ribbon of tan whose dust you awake If you are the songful mockingbird I'm the sylvan gourd twirling to your trills If you are the darting trilobate arrow of retribution I'm the billow whose back you surf If you are the first born of Aphrodite I'm the lost sea harbouring Uranus' genitalia If you are the dirge of death I'm the orchestra setting your symphony If you are the sorcerer of the end I'm the skull among the bones in your palm If you are the pitiable mendicant I'm the wretched jacket of holding your alms If you are the cold rapier of sovereignty I'm the scabbard kissing your blade