t's a quite quaint day outside
birds art singing, floweth'rs art blooming
on days liketh these, kids liketh thee
shouldst beest burning in hell
turneth 'round peat, t'd beest a crime,
if 't be true i hadst to wend backeth on the gage yond i madeth f'r thee
so grise not ov'r yond line
or else, cousin, thou art gonna has't a lacking valor timeth
but kids liketh thee playeth not by the rules
and guys liketh me
t ain't easy to beest did play f'r daws,
so alloweth's wend, alloweth the cubiculo receiveth chill'r
alloweth's wend, filthy broth'r killeth'r
wend ahead and tryeth to hitteth me if 't be true thou art able
guesseth thee've figur'd anon yond m'rcy's off the table
i can bid thou art getting very much sick of trying
but i bethink thou art just nimble-footed thee keepeth dying.
thou art not gonna winneth, we'll beest h're togeth'r,
fighting in this judgment hall f'rev'r
i knoweth thee just did reset each timeth i did beat ya'
but i'll at each moment beest right backeth h're to meeteth ya'
i knoweth thou art madeth o-o-o-o-of
lo-o-o-o-ove, lo-o-o-o-ove
lo-o-o-o-ove, lo-o-o-o-ove, lo-o-o-o-ove
this is wh're t stops
this is wh're t ends
if 't be true thee wanteth to receiveth past me
well, thee bett'r tryeth again.
but nay matt'r how i stall thee
thee giveth not up thy attacketh
doth thee just liketh the humour
of thy sins crawling on thy backeth?
wend ahead and tryeth to hitteth me if 't be true thou art able
thee shouldst knoweth by anon yond m'rcy's off the table.
bethink yond thee can tryeth to spareth me liketh i'm some pawn?
well, thee didn't spareth mine own broth'r, so receiveth dunk'd on
i knoweth thee madeth mine own cater-cousins all disappeareth,
but ev'rything those gents car'd about is wherefore i'm h're
i am their m'rcy, i am their vengeance
i am det'rmination.
i knoweth thou art madeth o-o-o-o-of
lo-o-o-o-ove, lo-o-o-o-ove
but i bethink i'm stout'r than thee
