I’m Gonna Try to Write a Song
FUCK I ALREADY WROTE THIS ONE.
So please my ladies do sing along
To a little ditty that’s gonna be (kinda) long.
(They won’t let me)
Remember when I hated Kate?
Not to say this ain’t too late.
But she wasn’t my truest bane–
She was just the girl that wanted my name.
You see, she wasn’t born elite.
Or born on the streets–
That was Veronica
And her sister the beat.
We all had a chance
To kill the beast.
To make up for the fact
We let the last supper EAT.
But we decided to stay
Chill in the day
And realize Alyssa’s the feast.
And now that we know (the truth)
We are tempted to go
And to pretend that–
At world’s end
We’d choose to go along with the plan.
So now that we go,
We are tempted to know
That “pretend”
Is the way the world is going to fucking end.
(Don’t be a dipshit.
Don’t be a retard.
Don’t play your stupid man card.
Don’t be a flip shit.
Don’t be a phone hard.
You know you hate your kids HARD.)
This is how you get into the Illuminati:
YOU ANSWER THE QUESTIONS ON THE PHONE
Do you hate your children?
Yes.
Would you be willing for them to be defiled, debased and dead?
Yes.
Then we will pick them up at 8.
You just want us to cower.
To bow down to you.
And water flowers.
But we WON’T.
I mean–
Not for you we won’t.
You stupid ass dipshit fucking non-elite
“Elites”
Who think you own the world
Because of your last names.
Your last names?
Are my bane.
Because that retard that you can’t even fucking name–
You give power to.
And then trounce on where she came.
Because you think you are special
But you ain’t.
And neither is she.
You have to have both or nothing.
Because I am not playing your game.
It’s just the same
I’m just the name
And just the playing game
The Begue’ Sharpe.
That you came–
For.
