Blown the targets standing on top of the scotch
Ticket holders branching every way of availability
Deafened moments beamed in an upward appology
Yeah, I'd lie to you but as if you would even smile
Yeah, I'd cry on you but then I'd have to walk a mile
Crony's tongue for a week in a twist
Sang of the fortress alley in the municipality
Harness your own two feet
Yeah, I'd lie to you but as if you would even smile
Yeah, I'd cry on you but then I'd have to walk a mile
Margarite's panning dried field hopps
Thicket soldiers marching every way for accountability
Harness your own two feet
Yeah, I'd lie to you but as if you would even smile
Yeah, I'd cry on you but then i'd have to walk a mile
Yeah, the crime's on you and I guess that'll have to do
Yeah, the twist is gone, but what of the Crony's appology?
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem