Cause I'm just Marshall Mathers
I'm not a wrestler guy
I'll knock you out if you talk about me
Come and see me on the streets alone
If you assholes doubt me
And if wanna run your mouth
Then come and take your best shot at me
do not even entertain such thoughts,
come walk beside me,
as we always have
no matter who or what we were.
On the Stage
In the past, the world was perhaps a wiser place, despite its lack of scientific knowledge, or its great technology, or the complexity that today plagues our world as much as it advances it. Are the dark ages truly dark, or just a time when such was the world that there was no need for glaring neon lights, the heart knew its way without the blaring symbols of modernism. Can you trace the years back to when the unicorn walked free, with noble visage un-lined by care or burden, when the lithe form of silver would flash across a flower sprinkled field beneath a liquid ray of sun, or ghost across a moonlit clearing with the radiance of a fallen star? The years are as many as the rings of a giant oak, lost in time the memories have all but faded from our culture, to the point where all we remember is a glory that we can no longer grasp, and our world is dimmer for the failure. For they were lost, as all to often the most beautiful and innocent of things are, tarnished by a touch to acid for its beauty, by a carelessness that should never have been. And we mourn them, though it is too late for tears....
Its something that the pale one has been waiting for, when first he had tried and gotten no response, the bastard had left one of his only two allies to herself, in the darkness that he felt he could give no light to, save the patient knowledge that when the duchess was ready, Karida would open her eyes once more, and he would be there, like he had promised to be, and always would be. So there's a quiet and solemn joy to see once more the pale silhouette coming towards him, and noble visage is raised with its voids not empty for once, there's a simply delight showing in those windows normally so devoid of all, icicles forward in simple show of gratefullness. Rusted whispers wipe away any doubt that could be left, and carcass animates, circling once around the golden casted banshee, then setting off, to nowhere, with no time to be there, the warlock simply beginning a journey that could never be ended. Their shadows cast across the roof of hell, and with a walk, whatever else has been is forgotten, and you must simply breathe, for he will allow naught else.
Recorded in: Leviathan Sea
By the: Royal Guard
Stage Crew: Chained Angel, Regicide, The Shining
Back-up Vocals: Nemesis, gld Karida
In dedication to: the only bytch to provide the drugs my soul desires, Hells Steal
Featuring: Mirage, Flood
Cast the record in: Bronze
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