I, The Swan

I, the Swan
 Beautiful and phallic
 Perched
 ♪
 Canvas draped, paint peeled
 Paddles on some thin waters
 And mutated mixtures
 Hurl stones around breaths
 
 There will be... shadows fall
 
 (I, the Swan, am beautiful and I desist
 In space between this being and idea)
 I, the Swan
 Beautiful and phallic
 Perched
 ♪
 Neck stiff, a stoned image of a main belle
 Words within swollen candies, knees to the floor
 Canvas draped, paint peeled
 Paddles on some thin waters
 And mutated mixtures
 (I, the Swan, beautiful and phallic!
 Canvas draped, can I feel?!
 I, the Swan, beautiful and phallic!
 Canvas draped, can I feel?!)
 ♪
 He picked up a large white vase and pitched it
 Sharp porcelain lined the shapeless pool of liquid formed by its contents
 Of the man that pulled at my feathers
 The artist, the true manifestation of struggle
 Shattered porcelain greeted back with fresh wounds
 Of memories; two beasts... naked
 (I, the Swan, beautiful and phallic!
 Canvas draped, can I feel...?!)