[God, he's ugly, the fortune is ours]
"Marry me," he said, God, he's ugly, the fortune is ours
Roaming in the gardens enjoying men, women and flowers
Then I break a glass and I slit my own innermost thighs
Then I can pretend that I'm menstrua--well, unavailable
My life is all right but this union's delight
So I'll fuck who I choose for I've nothing to lose
And when Master's displeased I'll be down on my knees again
Oh, what beautiful things I'll wear
What beautiful dresses and hair
I'm lucky to share his bed
How special since I'll soon be dead
When dining on peacock I know I won't swallow
Through balls, births and bridge games I know what will follow
We'll couple together through hell, hurt, and hunger
Or at least until husband finds someone younger
Yes, fertilization is part of my station
I laugh as he grabs me in anticipation
Of sons who will run things while I'm under covers
But whose children are they? Why, mine and my lover's!
-Emilie Autumn - Marry Me