The yellow dead are crying
I can see their lavender dentistry
From the green anus nodes,
The green consummation sand,
The buck-eyed san-greena from killmother
The silken sub-hell gyve.
The yellow dead are sobbing now
Sobbing as they wear their holy hats
The holy hats burn sangrias
Staining their sangrias
Decompose, my good sir
It will help the environment I swear
Oh good holy hat no, I’d rather ride your sweaty backbone to the wedding ceremony
Decomposition is Beethoven
I, a reasonable human now, will in time, join their harmony
I will sing the fifth part,
I have seen the script
Seen scripts that labeled the maddest man soprano
Why the light shining on his grave
Why is he different?
The holy hat
If I rot, I will surely wake
If I wake, I will surely rot
These are the lines that created a paradoxical Anthony
Oh very wrought park of childhood memories,
I pray to you because you are dead and you can whisper,
“Give me a turnip"
Burn me as an arsonist
Protect me as a mother.
Direct me as a commander
-The Holy hat