Lyrics

[Instrumental] The place was a maze, a mystery, the geography of which Emma never seemed able to fully comprehend Maybe it was the Mad Honey? More than once, she found herself buzzing around the big, empty house like a trapped insect, unable to find her way out into the sunshine One morning - or maybe it was an evening, she stood, staring at a faded portrait that hung above a long-dead fireplace Honey smiled down at her Only, it couldn't be Honey Wiping dust from the tarnished frame with a sticky paw, Emma read the words "Mistress Sylvia Arden, 1899" Honey's mother? She felt her flesh crawl as her thoughts turned to the dripping corpse hive in the orchard Bad vibes; she didn't need that She wandered on Emma turned the squeaking tap again, and again still, nothing came forth The glass house tap had run dry How long had it been now, since she'd tasted its perfect sweetness? Where was Honey? Out in the garden, Emma gorged herself on the red, mad honey like never before Not a single bee threatened to sting, even as she delved hungrily into their hives Honey found her in the garden She had carried the sticky, sickly sweet girl into the glass house And laid her on the bed of buzzing flowers The hives in their were positively oozing now, and she set about her harvest Honey talked as she worked, knowing Emma could hear every word Too much reanotoxin, the thing which made mad honey trippy, could slow your heart right down Put you in a kind of hibernation, like bees in the winter Great glass vessels of liquid gold were filled and arranged at the sleeping beauty's side Age-rusted bolts that secured the tanks lid were undone One by one, bees crawled about Emma's face, unrolling long tongues to suck sweetness from her unblinking eyes...