Yes, cradle the fallen head—

most of the blood is on the floor—

it spilled more after he was dead—

and then the feast turned into sand—

I knew that I could charm them all—

he fell under my mother's hand—

Mother, you said it would be for you—

he judges me—for eternity—

this is the last job—I will do—

as long as I can twirl and spin—

the blood will trickle on my skin—

as well as yours—my only kin.

My only anchor? Let me go!

You watched the dance, smiled "Salome"—

it was your wish—now we both know—

how is my mother's breast my doom?

I'll only finish my dance—when—

your eyes are bloody—like this room—

From Eve