Followed the Devil in disguise,
a shrude and proud beacon of surprise,
Like a leaf covered by rust,
Picked up and thrown to dust,
Floating across many blades,
That devoid the suns rays,
They landed in front of tomb,
Only to find they were doomed.
What is the point of searching so long?
bending so low, and stretching the same song,
One found herself in the edge of a dagger,
Another just stayed all night and swaggered,
The other just shaved her head over again,
While the rest gave way for a similar fate,
Only one questioned their methods and looked grim.
She joined a club of two centuries,
begged for a place in the obituaries,
Even danced for seven deities,
She never was happy in cities,
She went to the mountains and people took pity,
Of what she had become, this boiled her pretty,
So she lost her mind, lost her time,
Now old and frail and not even worth a dime,
her flesh was now next to grime.
So we grew old and listened to stories time to time,
Same life, same wife and same knife,
same faces, short paces and longer laces,
No one understood, a few did what they could,
We danced and sang and plundered around.
