Good evening, Mr. Mattel
We've found this tripe in your house
Where's that place you?
What's that make you?
If you've got nothing to hide
We've still got something to find
You can change your mind
But you're on borrowed time
Lives are on the line
The blood's on you and me
Lives are on the line
So I need you to speak up
This is an offer and not an option
Count backward from ten
I might as well O.D. Akin to a friend.
A name I'd confess that would make me a mess: Persephone.
Queen of my fire, the underworld's eye & apple of mine.
Oh, you thought you saw my soul.
Paid for, traded, and sold.
I may not be so bold after all.
Hang my head above my bedroom window
Lights from the street beckon
Me to love all I despise, why?
My mistress, my heart beats for you.
I'm distressed, all I need was you.
Give it up
So what does that make me? A rat? A fiend?
A You-never-knew-the-regret-I-would-be?
A 1-2-3, switched up loyalty
But in a sea of bleeding, I've got buoyancy
Time's up: You've wasted enough of mine.
Now, I'll go back over this: One last time.
Martyrs won't keep them alive
We don't take kindly to espionage or treason.
Give it up boy. Save yourself from the:
Retribution that descends on the fallen.
There's no sense in finding out
What you can do nothing about.
Heresy and infestation of these thoughts can break the chains of
Status quo that maintains curtains; wool over the eyes of burdened,
Broken people with no future short of cremation and sutures,
Cold steel tables ending fables, lies that keep the hope alive.