Earnest little movement Full of gargantuan intentions and Infinitesimal budgets I could slide you in my deep pockets But I am pretending not to have one
Ever so much easier To point towards Hades Than to admit The fork in our own tongues
Declivity, thy name is hope And your feathers were plucked By those with the best of intentions For to fight alongside us You must be of us.
Painful troubling irksome secret As the fly tries To wing out from the bowl Of spoiled milk.
