Savage Letters

She was only a small runt
From the lands of Missouri
When Roosevelt decided to make her
A household name

With his hand in her pocket
And a shallow grave in her name
They set out for the city
Searching for fame

There’s no use in keeping secrets
Her name is bacon
They might see her tomorrow
Her name is bacon
Though she might have changed it
Her name is bacon
Within weeks they were fighting
What was passion had turned into coal
Still he wouldn’t leave her even when
She’d run out of love

So with a blade in her left hand
And a white rose between her lips
She cut his throat on new year’s eve
And stuffed his corpse in the fridge

There’s no use in keeping secrets
Her name is bacon
They might see her tomorrow
Her name is bacon
There’s no use in keeping secrets
Her name is bacon
Though she might have changed it
Her name is bacon