Alright, here we go.
Look at my friendly little motha fuckin pixie here,
He runs from all his problems by flying away up in the air.
How young and incompetent this mother fucker is it hurts to know,
But you lowbloods put your fate on the back of a bull in the rodeo.
I hate to be the bearer of bad news in this silly case,
but your Summoner is a black out disgrace to your shit blood race,
He’s got a pathetic attempt at startin’ up the fires sick,
When his Matesprit was alive, she wouldn’t even suck his dick!
If the Signless was alive that motha fucka’d be he shakin’ his head,
At all of the people that you pronounced were better off as dead.
But don’t worry with your punk ass savior moved out of the way
It means the honk, the messiahs, and the dark carnival are here to stay.
The mirthful Messiahs will keep a place for you in their circus tent,
For fake ass rebels who already broke because their breath is spent.
You wanna know something my little motha fuckin winged friend?
It’s right about time this revolutions gonna fuckin’ end
I wish I could stop, but my hands are all up an mother fuckin tied
Because those orders from the Empress tell me that you gotta die.
(here’s the mic, don’t drool on it.)
(For easier reading, open images in other tabs, I have to hand write everything. :U)