11900
Beg me out of my pockets the change that resides in poor trousers,
Would that be a king in front of a redneck building power,
The pay would be clocked of an accomplishment had I joined the dream,
Yet the sun is eternal giving from lasting deeds,
After getting soaked your king went spiral,
Granting antics unloosed, repaired, and idle,
His kids today we lay completely under,
How’s the moose, how’s the bids, how’s the gel that keep you over,
Investing in the coal to burn away from the lamp,
Jagged edges remember me in the silence of the lambs,
A day prepared in likeness of the sunset view,
Pro-abolitionist and their devices of jewels.
