Blue Oyster Cult - Mistress Of The Salmon Salt Lyrics
In the garden districtWhere the plants grow strong and tallBehind the bush there lurks a girlWho makes them strong and tallThe villagers call herQuicklime girl........behind her backQuicklime girl........behind the bushQuicklime girlShes the mistress of the salmon saltQuicklime girlQuicklime girlQuicklime girlIn the fall when plants returnBy harvest time she knows the scoreRipe and ready to the eyeYet rotten somehow to the coreAnd they call herQuicklime girl........behind her backQuicklime girl........behind the bushQuicklime girlShes the mistress of the salmon saltQuicklime girlQuicklime girlQuicklime girlA harvest of life a harvest of deathOne body of life one body of deathAnd when youve gone and choked to deathWith laughter and a little stepIll prepare the quicklime, friendFor your ripe and ready graveFor your ripe and ready graveIts springtime now and cares subsideAnd the plannings almost doneAnd fertile graves it seems existWithin a mile of that dukes jointWhere coast guard crews still take their leaveQuite listless in the sunAnd the quicklime girl still plies her tradeThe reduction of the many from the oneAnd they call herQuicklime girl........behind her backQuicklime girl........behind the bushQuicklime girlShes the mistress of the salmon saltQuicklime girlQuicklime girl........they call herQuicklime girlA harvest of life, a harvest of deathResumes its course each dayIt comes as if by scheduleA harvester lifts his arms to the rainAnd toes that crawlAnd knees that jerkAnd necks like swans that seem to turnAs if inclined to gasp or pray
