From Taylor

I decided to go to hell. I will embrace the fire, Be bound in the brimstone For it is where lusty lovers go. When they bash Bishops. I forsake my soul, Though it tells me You should be mine, For it is where the virgin mother, The harpy sentinel Crested on roof steeple Says I must go And as I writher in agony Speared on the thick ends of monsters At last, properly pricked And husked of tears I will think my heaven My smile Flickering in the lights of your eyes, Dearest Bella.