Fancylad, fancylad
How did you blow your inheritance, fancylad?
Sing me your parents' embarrassment, fancylad
Sing to me your pink-flowering thorn
You never asked to be born
Your woes, they shine like tiny gemstones
What an exquisite collection, such an exquisite collection
Shall I tell you whether they're real or not
Before I cut them to perfection?
The better to bedeck you
What an exquisite collection
Fancylad, fancylad
How did you blow your inheritance, fancylad?
Sing me your parents' embarrassment, fancylad
Sing to me your pink-flowering thorn
You never asked to be born
Your wound, wherever did you find it?
Wet-petalled like a vagina
Shall I straighten this crooked boutonniere?
It shouldn't be pinned onto your coat
Plant it deep in your heart's hole
Wherever did you find it?
Fancylad, fancylad
How shall I write your biography, fancylad?
Five hundred diary pages about your dad
Sing to me your pink-flowering thorn
You never asked to be born
You never asked to be born
You'll live, you'll live, you'll live
All cried out like a girl but you'll live
Mama's little mixed-up man
You'll live, you'll live, you'll live
All cried out like a girl but you'll live
Mama's little mixed-up man
