Odalisque The Decemberists

They've come to find you, Odalisque
As the light dies horribly
On a fire escape you walk
All rare and resolved to drop

And when they find you, Odalisque
They will rend you, terribly
Stitch from stitch 'til all
Your linen limbs will fall

Lazy lady had a baby girl
And a sweet sound it made
Raised on praties, peanut shells and dirt
In a railroad cul-de-sac

And what do we do with ten baby shoes
A kit bag full of marbles and a broken billiard cue?
What do we do?
What do we do?

Fifteen stitches will mend those britches right
And then rip them down again
Sapling switches will rend those rags alright
What a sweet sound it makes

And what we do with ten dirty Jews
A thirty-ought full of rock salt and a warm afternoon?
What do we do?
What do we do?