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*The camera fades in the arena
Johnny: Welcome back to.....
*Technical difficulties has occurred as the camera forced to focus on the unknown woman in the hood sitting in the chair holding an old book in her hands.
???:.........
Caesar on the peasant robe
heed thy my voice contain my lore
for once your rise has been called
screams of Mandragora will filled with your fall
Sky peeked at the Venus trap tree
Magnificent saplings and the fiery sting
Proud as the gardener's smile and grin
Ravaged, the impossible, not even pricked
Distant in the coldest shade of cell
A Papilionoidea Magna outcasts his shell
As cold as the mouth of the melt
The pallet of the wings, the great twig must fret
Soon his tottering frame shall be bring
into a shell where once an arm of Persephone
on the same period, a tree will bring an offspring
that only murks with pride and victory
A gardener's final act, an obsequy of glee
the creator of all things in a red seed
his Gala is bounty and his morass free
coaxed, Yes! But among him is a Banshee
Respite of the embryo is nigh
as the moonlight beam on the night
as faster as the speed of light
nuzzled in tree, rising the faux life
A tree and the gardener in the mask of doll
rimmed by an erratic creature soul
conjured with a reflection into the dawn
sans the taste of moaning mourn
A fallen tree constricted with a fool
scapegoated and humiliated like a mule
a fruit that flowers it, never be lured
with the branches groped into a tomb
In the fragments of the Magnum Opum
let it sing by a black nightingale
the hero who is a worm that is pale
his mimes been struck by the Great Gale
..........
*Suddenly the camera fades back to the ring
Hanz: It's that girl again!
Johnny: I wondered who's that girl is. She's been wondering in the backstage for two weeks. What's her business?
Johnny: Welcome back to.....
*Technical difficulties has occurred as the camera forced to focus on the unknown woman in the hood sitting in the chair holding an old book in her hands.
???:.........
Caesar on the peasant robe
heed thy my voice contain my lore
for once your rise has been called
screams of Mandragora will filled with your fall
Sky peeked at the Venus trap tree
Magnificent saplings and the fiery sting
Proud as the gardener's smile and grin
Ravaged, the impossible, not even pricked
Distant in the coldest shade of cell
A Papilionoidea Magna outcasts his shell
As cold as the mouth of the melt
The pallet of the wings, the great twig must fret
Soon his tottering frame shall be bring
into a shell where once an arm of Persephone
on the same period, a tree will bring an offspring
that only murks with pride and victory
A gardener's final act, an obsequy of glee
the creator of all things in a red seed
his Gala is bounty and his morass free
coaxed, Yes! But among him is a Banshee
Respite of the embryo is nigh
as the moonlight beam on the night
as faster as the speed of light
nuzzled in tree, rising the faux life
A tree and the gardener in the mask of doll
rimmed by an erratic creature soul
conjured with a reflection into the dawn
sans the taste of moaning mourn
A fallen tree constricted with a fool
scapegoated and humiliated like a mule
a fruit that flowers it, never be lured
with the branches groped into a tomb
In the fragments of the Magnum Opum
let it sing by a black nightingale
the hero who is a worm that is pale
his mimes been struck by the Great Gale
..........
*Suddenly the camera fades back to the ring
Hanz: It's that girl again!
Johnny: I wondered who's that girl is. She's been wondering in the backstage for two weeks. What's her business?
