Sprinkled by the Of words that make the outlines Blur on the showplace that made history The folk is willed To the dished up tale The of a higher meaning
Cheat, you had to create An enemy stereotype To retrieve your absolution A forthy poor for your foray To disengage from the deeps of encumbrance
March in with ten legions Whilst the crucial not he pillum But the feather held in your hand Penned blood Your tall tales rule the forum Altering it into the
I, the spectral guise Evoking these baring fears Pestering your conscript fathers I smile at my demise and I die I cherish the roots of my perseverance