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Am I nothing more than prey for your taking?

A feast on a table, a pillar for your feet

Am I everything that lustful eyes can’t resist?

Then I bring with, resentment for your dirty lips

Am I the victor of your soul, that for my beauty you should sin?

Of your heart, adept to your darkness, you’re weakness

Am I the potter that should root up your weeds?

Should I be the one to clear the way, harvest your flesh?

Am I the fire, that I should burn your tower to ashes?

That I might give you the gift of the spirit of the free