I want she, I want she, not matrimony

My fruit was ripe, she bit
My fruit was ripe, she bit
huffing and puffing on the mattress stuffing
upon the bunk a fervent funk

in my butcher’s hands her soft fruit tendered, She never pretended…
she purred while, I grrred

I die every day, to live every night
under the industry of her want for me in our fusty foundry
please no ceremony, I want she for laundry, I want she so I’m not lonely
I want she, I want she, not matrimony

- Wild Beasts, 'She Purred while I Grred'