She Wears He-Harem

Ooh you wear your he-harem hat
And a lace bib that zips up the back
To be an 'n' on a leash of men
And the endless spool of fools lick of patchwork
In your new suit

See the stone moths that sweep up
And the suitcase full of new clothes
Made of man-skin and the souls that you done stole

Ooh you wear your he-harem coat
And a real dick boa wrapped around your throat
To be an 'x' in sexless equation
Bead on a spool of jewels
Cold backup for your crown, Queen

And the seamster is a stone moth
There's a suitcase full of old robes
And the real hearts and the souls that popped out

Ooh you wear your he-harem dress
And fake lashes lap up the mess
That grows like breath within your wake
Coin-toss a glance back
At the road of men you paved, dear

See the stone moths that sweep up
And the suitcase full of new clothes
Made of man-skin and the souls that you done stole