Die Hoffnung Orpheus In His Underwear
Sing, muse, of despair, of the fond buried fair, of the nightingale that now croons. that quit salons for saloons
Did trade honey for ale, a lift for a wail. These barboys, all souse and rut, preen flatter and strut
Would mount birds barely wooed by a liquor this crude, that once did move meadows to dew, raised the dear from dead once said:
"Wake, Fairest, and folow; make a room in your tomb for all sorrow, eyes burn to look on you. I won't steal a gaze but borrow
Wait fairest, dont go. curse a berse this hollow, ill burn meter, spin sugar, shame zeus, venus, apollo"
The gods are assps
Drink freinds dance down your past. Love and virtue won't last. make time with mad, shreaking tarts. let them rip you apart
They can start with your heart
