She walks with grace through the village light Draped in linen, hands so white Whispers cure in a gentle tongue But death begins when the day is done They line up for her sacred touch Never knowing it costs too much She bleeds the fever from their skin And takes it back to drink again White veil, red fangs Sanctified in human pangs Saint by dusk, fiend by dawn She heals ‘til all her prey are gone White veil, red fangs Buried deep beneath her fangs Scribes her tinctures with patient ink Knows just how the dying think Sends them home with a loving smile Then stalks their breathless homes in style The clergy calls her “Heaven’s Bride” But can’t see the casket side Every breath she gives, she’ll take Each “cure” a carefully veiled stake White veil, red fangs Sanctified in human pangs Saint by dusk, fiend by dawn She heals ‘til all her prey are gone White veil, red fangs Buried deep beneath her fangs No stake can kill what guilt won't drown No sun can judge the holy crown She writes the plague into their veins Then counts the days by bloodstained names They call her blessed— They call her kind— But none see what she leaves behind A clinic paved in shallow graves No one is healed, just softly slayed White veil, red fangs Truth disguised in healing hands Saint by dusk, fiend by dawn No sinner left to pass it on White veil, red fangs Your savior wears them like a brand
