And not long after, created an engineer from old clay,
And his own Paris to rule him there.
And in his Paris he created The Poet from even older clay I had ever sawed before
Where this land will come to know him as Athlete.
Yeah I was just a new scale strung from the end of his flute lied.
Lied by the fluter of a forgerer.
Yeah Art slayen the Journalist and submitted the evidence in his defense.
The Judge let him through,
He slayed his lawyer, stole his car.
Yeah they never caught the Star that left the loophole free to wonder the loose ends of the bombers constellation
Let Darwin slip in through the back door when the Prophet told him to Guard it with his David.
It's safe say, the poet was unimpressed by the life the old creator dawned between the two blueish cardinals in his pretty heart, he gave the whole heart away to the first true bluer who promised to never say blue!