I was thinking about how some of the people behind some of the recent atrocities around the world must have been treated and what drove them to fanaticism. I also had the idea of writing a song about people who pick on others to raise themselves. As a result, I came up with this rather dark lyric. Whatcha think?
He hit a wall with a fist
Curled into the shape of a wrecking ball.
He couldn't escape the trick
Imposed by the magician of spectacles.
And the wall flapped like a canvas
And he thought he'd been trapped all along.
And the army of ghouls got past
And, no, you cannot injure the ghouls.
Try as he might,
Those creatures won't turn back;
He was torn apart that night;
He was the vultures' midnight snack.
Try as he might,
Those creatures won't leave here;
He was torn apart by
All the things he feared.
The stench of an unattended
Bodybag drifts freely through the air like
The whisperer, warning him
Of what already had occurred that night.
It was too late to save his body,
It was buried under the seasoning.
Now he was the main course for he'd
Somehow greatly displeased the king.
Try as he might,
Those creatures won't turn back;
He was torn apart that night;
He was the vultures' midnight snack.
Struggle as he might,
Those creatures won't leave here;
He was torn apart by
All the things he feared.
Try as he might,
Those creatures won't leave here;
It weren't what he feared that killed that lie;
It was the sheer
Struggle and the fight.
Those creatures won't leave here;
He was torn apart by
All the things he feared.
Try as he might,
Those creatures won't turn back;
He was torn apart that night;
He was the vultures' midnight snack.
Try as he might,
Those creatures won't leave here;
It weren't what he feared that killed that guy;
It was the fear.
