The Crop and the Pest

Come away
Come away with me
You perfect, perfect shell
You nautilus, nautilus

I will treat you so well
I'll take you up from this hell
My gracious host
You're my lover
Won't you be my concubine?

The pleasure's all mine
Your pleasures are all mine
To twist and turn around
In figure eights and out of place
Refuse the bounty of his right for the hunger of his left hand

I'm the fervor of the fever you can't sweat
I'm the garments stuck to your skin
Drenched and dripping wet
I'm a spring of flowing fume and fret
A barren spring of fume and fret is coursing its way
Through everything inside of me
And I know what won't ever sink
Will slowly swim to the bottom

Just promise not to see me as I am (Or what I'll become)
A pestilential scab
The scarlet of sunburned skin
I will stick to you like a wet cloth (You just can't shed)
I will cling to you like a child to his mother's breast
A fertile crop, I won't be shed

I saw my shining shield and armor rust
I felt my posture bow and fall to dust
But all the vigils, and the stakes I claimed
Couldn't take the sting from out my shame
Couldn't take the color from the stain that I became
The stain that I became

I'm the fervor of the fever you can't sweat
I'm the garments stuck to your skin
Drenched and dripping wet
I'm a spring of flowing fume and fret
I'm the melody stuck inside your head

What have I become?