Bohemian Raspberry
Is this just a fantasy?
Terraform reality?
Rolling, twisting in the quake
staring relativity?
A murder foul, a fatal flaw.
A matricide of cordite gore.
A hopeless cause.
A teardrop falls.
A poor house changed to prison walls.
And I must flee on speeding wings
before the sword of justice swings.
So quick I fade.
So soon forlorn.
I wish that I had not been born.
And so it came to pass that I
became a human firefly.
Alight with guilt
the mighty fuss
see, Scaramouche still dances thus.
So let me go.
So let me be
and leave me to my misery.
So let me go.
Gallileo
consume bohemian raspberry.
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