Hey, little white girl, Crawl in your canteen. He shed it all, all for you. Some boy he turned out to be, Growing dry, And black as rye. You save them up And you pinch them down. You d have them all For a necklace sewn. Unstab your hands from your lungs. What need you fear, his royal tear? My ebony ring Is changing. Paravele Paravele He brought a gold chain In a camel s mouth, For such a long pane of glass-flesh. I see your veins underneath, And should you stir, A pannish glimmer. In brushing past The wake of your fast, I can t agree with anything. Show me infinity To make him a monarchy. My ebony ring Is changing. Paravele Paravele A minister laughs, A banner chaffs, To challenge a love s nativity. Some boy he turned out to be, His foreign hem Arranging them.