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Stuck Inside In 95, pt. 2
Anarchosophist
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There he stands
Sweaty and fresh from the grave
Cheer squad is now over
Very few were saved
So long below, it only goes to show
That time moves fast except when it moves slow
Beautiful like bloodied snow
The apex of anathema
The catalyst of bliss
He's the Cat King in the Year of the Plague
Or at least that's what he hissed
Who knew the end would be like this?
All just whistling in an empty theatre
As civilisation softly falls
Perhaps someone could stop it
But no-one has the balls
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