Pick up on my message
It is nothing

If you ever felt aglow
Then it would come around, inducting

Itself...
Not you
Leading to
A vacuum

And you'd have to perceive something
So that's them
The perfect strumming!

**** women you'll never know
All the talents you'll never sew
But they'll insist it's not a myth
Oh no, it's fact, oh no, no no!

Joy necessitates
A shadow
Follow me into
The meadow
Now there needs to be
A wasteland
Don't you curse the grass
Where we stand
Please pick up your feet
You slacker
You must feel the heat
Of my slur
That's how we afford
The music
Which never really was
That useful...

Oh, I'm jealous of Gabriel...