Dear Hunter Mr. Malum
Mr. Malum's got a secret, he keeps when giving
speeches.
Just a whisper in precision, that cuts through
hesitation.
With a sharp and evil whip to keep the dogs at bay.
When the truth arrives, you wont believe your eyes.
He's triumph's pessimist, but he's no less content.
With the world in the grip of his hands,
He'll crush the air out of it's lungs.
Say we don't want him to have it all,
But now it's just too late to ask,
Because his hold has turned so tight.
His puppets to the left and his pawns to line the
right,
But every eye is front and center, a cruel
intoxication,
From the sap that trickles down his branches to their
mouths.
When the truth arrives, you wont believe your eyes.
A vicious champion, but he's no less content.
With the world in the grip of his hands,
He'll crush the air out of it's lungs.
Say we don't want him to have it all,
But now it's just too late to ask,
Because his hold has turned so tight.
The air we're barely breathings not enough,
And this final gasp that rattles us to bend,
The last thing we will see, is Mr. Malum.
The thin of his tie,
One slink of the suit,
A link to cuff,
And the shine of his shoes.
But when the truth arrives, you didn't trust your eyes.
Say we don't want him to have it all,
But now it's just too late to ask.
You had your chance, but you turned away again.
You had your chance, but you turned away again.
You had your chance, but you turned your eyes away
again.
