Echoes speak the language of your keeper.
Soak the rum in, chimney sweeper.
Open up them hopeless peepers:
Icarus has got to drop.
Sharpened noses bid the pot,
The peak is where you turn and
tie an iscariot's knot.
(Cesses the non-stop.)
Way too drunk on holy water
Perfect posture for the slaughter
Don't seem to mix too well with fodder
Hide your sons inside your daughters
Fiction's now a fucking drag
Tyranny is now the fad
Became a treasure just to
paint your treasure black
Tongues be still when I inhale
Lacivious lackluster fail
Dystopiotic crutch
All I will accomplish is...
Egomania
©an_odd_who
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