There's a short, kind of kinky way
To enhance, your body art display
It's what ranchers, use to keep away
The rustlers of their cows

And there's a girl, she's in Provincetown
And she works, laying hot steel down
Clients ask her, for a scar that's brown
She burns them, frisky and fine

Her clients say "Brand me!
Scar me fine, girl!
Make a good stripe I can see!
Yeah you fry - with steel and tailored - artistry!"

And she, wears a gothic chain
Made of dungeon iron from a house of pain
A locket, that bears the name
Of a man that she once loved

He came, on a winter's day
Wearing black, and shades of grey
But he made it clear, he could not stay,
His coffin was his home

He used to say "Brand me!
Scar me fine, girl!
Make a good stripe I can see!
But my life, my love and my lady - is Buffy"

Oh yeah, she used to watch his eyes
When he told his tales so gorey
She could feel the darkness all around
She saw its gothic glory
But he had always made things up
Lord, he was a lying man
But frankly, she just did not - give a damn!

At night, other shops close down -
Not hers, that's when she comes around
To spread her burning pain around
You'll hear her clients say:

You'll hear them say "Brand me!
Scar me fine, girl!
Make a good stripe I can see!
You're my life, my love, and my lady - burn me please!"

You'll hear them say "Brand me!
Scar me fine, girl!
Make a good stripe I can see!
Make me grovel, beg and plead for - third degree!"