Was He Badly Mistaken Or Guided
As He Wondered His Valley Built In Silence
Hed Cover His Face To Speak As He Chewed Off His Finger, To The Bone
The Haze Of His Coloured Days
That March Of Content As His Dignity Splits To Unveil
His Bitter Sweetness

The Town Would Shudder And Stare
At His Presence With A Single Glare
As He Makes His Way Through
The Local Square
And He Says To Them
Your A Broken Fence, In The Yard Of Annoyance
Your A Broken Fence, In The Yard Of Annoyance
Annoyance

Hang The Cyst
Hang The Cyst
Hang The Cyst

The First Time In Pace Or In Math
Was At The Sight Of His Wilting Noose
And The Chance Will Soon Reduce To An Angry Silence
He Escaped In The Shock Of The Snap
His Wonderful Vanishing Act
Was A Spectacle But Not What Anyone Expected
The Route Was Planned As Much As The Broachpin Dagger
The Route Was Planned As Much As The Broachpin Dagger

Catch The Cyst
Catch The Cyst
Catch The Cyst