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