Speckled clowns walking swiftly
Shifty eyes set upon the ground
Nice nothing's whispered sweetly
Heating them up and beckoning them down
All are lost yet claim to be found
Their pretty paint runs off on my fingers
Revealing devilish grins and sickly skin
Curse this hand refusing my every command
Forgetting itself and myself it lingers
Infecting me with what comes around
There's only one solution to my appendages revolution.
Off with the arm preventing the plagues progress
Saving my heart and clearing my conscience.