The On Going Debate

[the Draç]

Determined to sizzle, the feet are hot.

That's what it feels like when you're the only 1 on top.

Fool's Gold, align, with all that is dust.

Acting like I have to care, if only they fuss.

It's a must, it was, all for the greed.

In need, in God, he sees beneath His feet.

Too much, more rights, crumbles from an Apple Pie.

Shoots himself in the head, then slowly dies.

He hates, he's good, it was me before you two.

Supposedly happy, like a root, that grew.

Running errands I align with sols.

In the middle of the street, where no where to go.

At peace, she hates, only wants to burst.

His ego so inflated, they turn to curse.

The beast in me looks to ride.

The Yellow Elohim, preaching, "He must die!"

For my sins, I know, it was him that glows.

Slowly stacking credit, before the event, the show.

He prayed, his lust, he fell through.

Turned from Satan to Mike, who looked like a fool.