The mirth's of the four seasons
the inglorious choruses of discontents from malcontents
craving attention and dying for reactions
some go with crossbow to **** the Queen
while some sit in ***** lives scripting shotguns and takedowns
from the unhinged to the ridiculous
carrying ready-made woes from self manufactured dysfunctions
in the drudgeries of nowhere alleys
and the choking pickings of easy street dystopia
the answers fans in neon lights
blame it all on twin sets and blue rinse
blame it all on Goldberg's and Steinberg's
blame it all on ermine and coronets
tis the tale of lost and stolen minds kept in the dark
leaving them panting with desires
stoked rubbed fingered and heat up to fevered pitch
they are moist and hooked begging for release
craving attention and dying for reactions