In my little black dress I [bad word] to confess; that defiance is not what it seems
    I am covered in dirt and my fingers they hurt; from the women I’ve tried to appease
    I am soothing my soul with indulgence and gold; I will bury my face in your loins
    I will master this dance with my [bad word] in your hands; there's a slot in my back for the coins
    There's a little black man in the palm of my hand, who keeps saying that fire [bad word]     I have wandered this earth from the time of my birth, so my legs they are starting to numb
    In the heart of my soul I will make me a hole; just to marvel when [bad word] out
    Let my silence convey all the things I can’t say, you can salvage my  with your mouth

    In my little black dress I [bad word] to confess; that defiance is not what it seems
    My devotion is dead like the thoughts in my head; are we searching for omens to see?
    Every moment of fate is determined by hate, please bestow me a reason to kill
    There’s a little white man in the palm of my hand, who keeps saying to do what thou wilt
    I put out I put in, it’s my cardinal sin, please enjoy throwing pearls before swine
    What we build always fall; there is nothing at all, that will last till the ending of time
    Only carnage makes sense, let the [bad word]  let’s make demons and gods out of men
    [bad word] survive when we cease [bad word]  with the concept of death as the end?