All my rivals will see what I have instore... my gun.
I've been harboring fleets in this resevoir... red sun.
And this nations about to explode...

Your disciples are riddled with metaphors... well hung.
Better pony up and bring both your barrel fulls... not one.
As we release this unspeakable toll...

Every grains of sand equals...
all the stars and everyone...

Hows our mother to damn these contributors... with mud?
How will the man who made chemicals difficult... shed blood?
Hows our father supposed to be told?