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Track: Butcheress
Artist: Rabbitology
Album: Butcheress

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Rabbitology Image

Name: Rabbitology
Followers: 102,617
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Biography

Alternative folk artist/producer based out of Ann Arbor Michigan

Source: Discogs

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Discogs Release Info

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Release: Rabbitology - Living Ghost
Year: N/A
Genres: Folk, World, & Country
Styles: Folk

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Source: MusicBrainz

LYRICS

Agnus Dei, he made and ate of me
This church
It was once a barn, they say
Perfume of myrrh
And swine manure forever curse this place
When church bells chime
They rattle loose rooster plumes and hay
Proving you can sure as hell try
But your past never scrubs away

God birthed me cursed
So I asked the Father how I could be saved, he said
“He birthed you perfect, for God makes no mistakes"
"But to thе farmer’s daughter
My heart is tеthered, and I think we’re soulmates"
So in the same breath, he said
“Then you better repent every day”

I made myself my
I made myself my butcheress
Wiping blood down the front of my nice white dress
Took a cleaver, carved my heart out
For a taste of claimed saintliness
At the hand of a holy man who never fully gave a damn
I became a butcheress

Had I different skin, I’d get to pickin’ her cornflower bouquets
Or kissin’ in stables, bare backs scrapin’ ‘gainst hay
But I’m no man, no butcher boy, just flesh and blood and shame
So I take a meat hammer and bash my legs ‘till I forget her name

I made myself my
I made myself my butcheress
Wiping blood down the front of my nice white dress
Took a cleaver, carved my heart out
For a taste of claimed saintliness
At the hand of a holy man who never fully gave a damn
I became a butcheress

I pass the farmer’s daughter, on the way to work every dawn
Between us hums our forgotten song of God

If this church was once a barn, like they said
Could this church ever be a barn again?
Could a girl unlearn false cries to sin?
Could a butcher shed her lamb’s bloodied skin?

If this church was once a barn, like they said
Could this church ever be a barn again?
Could a girl unlearn false cries to sin?
Could a butcher shed her lamb’s bloodied skin?

Agnus Dei, he made and ate of me

I made myself my
I made myself my butcheress
Wiping blood down the front of my nice white dress
Took a cleaver, carved my heart out
For a taste of claimed saintliness
At the hand of a holy man who never fully gave a damn
I became a butcheress