From the soil that birthed my soul,
I sojourned in the land beyond the beyond,
Paled from the cluster's depart,
Where the voice of the genius reigns above.
.
From this fair plains,
An Epitaph for every friend,
An unmarked grave for all foes.
Tread carefully! Lest you become an unspeakable sacrilege.
I remunerated no awareness to their warnings,
Like that whose ears were sealed with mortican wools.
.
HADES! Son of the morning light,
A stranger will ridge with the Gents!
There i looked into his soul,
Gave him three scoundrels of the black cloth,
Where thy words written on my musket balls.
.
He told me to sail,
For my death is for another day!
.
TEE-THOMAS (Fearless Lines)