Said the Martyr to the mob:

“It's not a feud to resolve on a poor man's mind”

They were bred, inbred, inside the walls,

No natural light there falls,

Where they go...


Drawn back,

A line of wisdom

It takes two to make a fool, one to lie and one to listen

Hold my vote from the bidders

The vacant eyes of a vision



We've had 19 from the same school, 

19 from the same school

I'm tired of waiting,

I've not got the patience



So I sold my vote to the highest bidder

The blatant lies of a vision



We've had 19 from the same school, 

19 from the same school

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