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Credits
PERFORMING ARTISTS
Rabbitology
Performer
COMPOSITION & LYRICS
Natalie Timmerman
Composer
PRODUCTION & ENGINEERING
Natalie Timmerman
Producer
Zhengxi Zhang
Mixing Engineer
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 the farmer's daughter
My heart is tethered, 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
Written by: Natalie Timmerman