Once I walked with faith, I found her foul and spat her out. My absinthian guest, if only your charm were as deep as your flesh One night I walked with beauty, I found her bitter and I insulted her. Oh witches, oh beasts I have entrusted my treasure to thee Once I slept with grace, I found her ill and full of bane, vain, and far sicker Than the wrath of the Wicked King Wicker The smoke from her fire turned everything black So never think of me for the sake of sanity, Although I'm fond of your scars, The failing of fervor, the crossing of stars Once I lad with beauty, and I laid her to rest If only, if only her charm had been as deep as her flesh The smoke from her fire turned everything black.