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