There once was a child,
No older than nine.
Parents told 'em
everything would be fine.
But the truth sometimes
tastes like a sour lime.
Carried it to the room,
didn't leave their hold of doom.
Tears filled the tomb,
And they ****** with a voom.
Cherished it like nothing
else ever mattered.
Kept it with everything,
wouldn't trade it with anything.
But the wolves,
they came at night.
Blinded the child with light.
Their stomach never had
felt so tight,
Nothing had ever felt so right.
But like any child,
they gave their charm away.
A moment in time filed,
it's the holy's luck now to stay.
And not everything is a dream,
life is sometimes
just what it seems.
The front of a heavenly glow
casts on the back a dark shadow,
Oh, how those claws grow!
And now abandoned
on the wooden floor,
The child wants nothing more
than to see how
that luck made the beast soar.
Hop,
Hop,
Croak.