Son of six
Through mists of time a dream all spied
A monster few would dare to ride
Twas Latham huffed with many tricks
And count the barrels, there were six
Now spawning from that ancient grave
A polished potent wicked knave
From grounds unholy it does rise
The world it soon will terrorize
So cower all, let children wail
From Son of Six we pull the veil
No comments:
Post a Comment