Hands right inside the air, my forever-chair taking me along on this robust trip
Of a lifetime
Fine food, cutthroat wine; outdining each ‘n’ every one of my oh so hardened professors
You know who you are
Archaic, flaked out, basking in conceited terminology
Oh yes, they have always felt the necessity to hold onto their very own chairs
Set scornfully in place – mind-boggling distaste
You said it would never happen, but I mapped all of it out
To a real point where there couldn’t but come this present position of rather ludicrous fruition
Harrowing decisions so as to create that seething masterstroke by the end
Choking all of this atrocious begrudgery on out of you, one impressive spew at a time
I see blood… who knew!?
