Lace of the Living and the Lost.

[Verse 1] She drifts into the harbor like a rumor wrapped in lace, A moonlit little menace with a smile that haunts the place. Her footsteps bloom with spores, her laugh can raise the dead— And every sailor swears they dream of her in fungal red. [Pre-Chorus] She’s got potions on her hip, And trouble on her breath, When she kisses you goodnight, You might wake up past your death… [Chorus] She’s got panties in every port, From the living to the lost, From the taverns on the shoreline To the lands where spirits frost. Every realm she wanders through Leaves a heart she didn’t court— That’s Mycelia, the necro-queen, With panties in every port. [Verse 2] She’s danced with ghosts in graveyards, left a lich without his pride, Got a demon sending love notes from the brimstone underside. There’s a pirate on the mainland still bewitched by how she grinned— She just called it “field research” as she wandered off again. [Pre-Chorus 2] She’s a whisper in the dark, A temptation with a grin, And she’ll resurrect a fling Just to have that night again… [Chorus] She’s got panties in every port, From the mortal docks of dawn To the shadowed halls of kingdoms Where the pulse has long been gone. Every heart that tastes her magic Knows she can’t be held or caught— That’s Mycelia, the necro-spark, With panties in every port. [Bridge] Maybe it’s the moonlight, Maybe it’s the spores, Maybe it’s the way she hums And opens hidden doors… Every lover lost or living Swears she leaves them wanting more— A panty, kiss, or memory Drifting back from distant shores… [Final Chorus] She’s got panties in every port, On the sea and in the veil, In the bone-deep halls of phantoms And the dreams that slip like ale. Raise a glass and whisper softly— If she loves you, love the sport. That’s Mycelia, wild and wicked, With panties in every port.