The Aquila Chronicles (II)

[the Draç]

Ripe to the touch, full to the rim.

Is it half full, or is it full of clear gin?

Wanting to win, the vulture in the rear.

Liquor before beer, you're eventually in the clear.

A steak wanting to seer, the Aquila fans that cheer.

The fire that's hot, that causes you to fear.

Rip to pieces, Easter like Reese's.

The marijuana we smoke, our sols then freezing.

Seeing with your 3rd, the Draconian like 3ird.

What's heard, is what's last, the adderall like gas.

Rap to the beat, to slither like creep.

To get to Heaven, the plane ride ain't cheap.