Molten Vole

Skin in excess
Like a grey dress
Endlessly dragging
Unfashionable
Impractical
It's far too much skin

Far too much skin, demon
Obscuring your true devilry
So slyly
Tuck your skin back, heathen
Flaps overlapped like puff pastry
Nauseate me

The bishop trips
On drooping hips
That swing and dangle
Folds abundant
So repugnant
As they entangle

It's best to wait
At least a minute
When the imp leaves
So you don't step in it

Miscreant
More flesh than bone
The angels will come
And they'll turn you to stone

Far too much skin, demon
Obscuring your true devilry
So slyly
Tuck your skin back, heathen
Flaps overlapped like puff pastry
Nauseate me