He will either have a son to love,
Or a ghost to mourn.

A son to love,
Brave and strong,
Bleeds every month because between his legs hides a secret he hates to keep.
A son to love,
Brave and strong,
Who doesn't want to let you go.

Or a ghost to mourn,
Who'll think of you and weep,
Bleeding every month but not because between his legs hides a secret he hates to keep.
Or a ghost to mourn,
Who'll think of you and weep,
Who didn't want to let you go.

© ●•ßugz{Før}Bra¡!ns•●