Behold, the father of the house appears.
Let us hurry to retire to our beds.
Before the sadist in spirits, gets hold of us.
Behold, here comes the provider,
Daddy is staggering to the house for dinner.
Yet he left with all of Mummy’s savings for breakfast and went to the brewery.
In addition, he promised to hurt her and send her back to her parents if she dared interfere with him and his plans.
He had promised that mummy’s savings would help him generate more, which, he said, would result in energy for work to sustain us during the day, but now the provider comes for dinner again, with a god-mode,
Feeling energetic, blowing everything in his path.
The trumpeter has arrived.
The chickens are flushing to their nests and the cows are mooing.
The trumpeter is whispering inhumane words to us,
He has a detailed account of how Mummy has made him poor.
He has a full swing of advice, and with him is an Oxford dictionary.
He says, "Have balance in life; be better in everything you do."
And brags about being the ideal addict,
Yet she lacks balance to walk.
Behold, here comes the loser.
The elite learner who won my mother’s heart,
With the promise of saving their future
The black master already has the future in his hands.
There is no elite these days.
For Satan dumps all who profess to be "elites."
Let's hurry to our beds; Mummy warned us not to interfere.
Comments