So lift your spirits high, young man
its all a smoking gun.
Erase your vicious lie my friend,
it's only just for fun.
The walls of the foundation founded,
laced with fancy, golden furs.
But the devil speaks to you
so to, bring all your vagrant slurs.
The rhyme of old bears fruit to sweet to rot the teeth unto the grave.
The heart pumps all desire through to force the mind, conditioned slave.
Times were tough all round the scene and faith jumped ship into the spray.
Generational funds dwindle, as the speaker, saves the day.
Bring the shivers
Filled with rage
For irony's real name