[1st Verse]
Picture me
In a casket
Blasted
Never nobody
Knew how long
The pain lasted
Keep my eyes tight
I'm frightened
But I fights like Tyson
When playin' this game of life
I'm losing
Longing to be enlightened
Absorb my mind state
Reduce the crime rate
And take me out
When running toward the Lord
I see 'em fake me
Out shook me
So from church I play hookie
Listen to the words of a brother
The sick stutters
So you better better
Get the get the bags ready
Comes a killer killer
Like Skagnetti
My brains contaminat
Cassandra
He gave to her, yet tenfold claim'd in return -
She hath no life but the one he for her wrought;
Proffer'd to her his wauking heart - she turn'd it down,
Ripostéd with a tell-tale lore of lies and scorn.
Prophetess or fond?,
Tho' her parle of truth:
«I ken to-morrow - refell me if ye can!»,
Yet the kiss and breath - Apollo's bane -
Sëer of the future, not of twain,
«Sicker!», quoth Cassandra.
Still, is she lief and quaint in his eyne, a sight divine? -
A mistress fuell´d by his prest haughtiness -
If he did grant, wherefore then did he not foresee,
Belike egal as it to him might be?!
Prophetess or fond?,
Tho' her parle of truth:
«I ken to-morrow - refell me if ye can!»,
Yet the kiss and breath - Apollo's bane -
Sëer of the future, not of twain,
«Sicker!», quoth Cassandra.
'Or was he an æriéd being,
'Or was he weening - alack nay mo;
Her naysay' raught his heart,
Her daffing was the grave of all hope -
She beliéd her own words,
He thought her life, save moreo'er scourge,
She held him august, yet wee;
He left her ne'er without his heart.