Injunction for unnecessary
Stability
Prespiring beneath island sun

When will our day come?
When will our day come?

When the cornering of
The Caucasian
Is a rug of anomalies
(Metaphorically speaking)

And all microphones are
Megaphones
Tussling with that age old
Slave whistle

They took over the music industry
With enpasse
And Ruled the other side as much as
Underside
Without a true leader

To precure perfection
One must have had a life
Of preparation

And still then
One always doubts themselves

Like a flannel tossed to the side of
The bathroom.

There's is a disease like a nut shelling
Cracked and nutritious looking
But really useless.

And Battenburg cake won't help our descriptions
Of them,
Even if they're old.

Poonanny lord