The pitcher shoots! and it's black and blue mashing buttons to free fall the tell all
And purple shoots frying matrimoaning to the beat of please don't drop me off
Covert screams
Divides the means
Three parts to split among the quartered
Vini Vidi banchee bleated the land lord
As the town crier brick walled himself in a tower of babble
The masses sighed in seven newborn dialects
Sighing
Fear not for we are all fearfull
And ear full the fuel fore the fire
The old school reckoned and ate those so discharged

Testimony ringing true in the silence
Escapades aid spades in violence
New is ripe and the old are hungry
Apples in the mouths of the swine
Apple in the eye of mine cato'nine