Anthem of the Sour and Rotten
She said, the world was dead inside her head.
Her evil heart was the dark in this overgrow wasteland.
And if you persecute them all together, You’ll bring the kingdom to its knees.
And send word of your sovereignty- across the lands.
Our harpies will pry the babies from their hands.
Demented wizards raise scepters for the possession.
(We, who appease the whirlwinds of desert sands.)
Hear the instruments of war being strung.
And witness the possession of your first born son.
Demons infest the prince as we lightly drum.
Your child is defiled and immune to exorcisms.
From the balcony the whole village sees
Their future king falling down to his knees
Their eyes glaze over with a hopeless despair
as they view their new queen and her child-like heir.
Praise the witch. The seven year itch.
The racy racist, born of a son of a bitch.
Praise the witch. The seven year itch.
The sexy sexist, born of a son of a bitch.
She’s never coming back again, She’s aching for disaster. Sour....Sow err!
She sours your intentions and plagues your dimensions. Sour...Sow err!
Faster by the hour, the prince loses his willpower. Sour...Sow err!
Hear the instruments of war being strung.
And witness the possession of your first born son.
Demons infest the prince as we lightly drum.
Your child is defiled and immune to exorcisms.
From the balcony the whole village sees
Their future king falling down to his knees
Their eyes glaze over with a hopeless despair
as they view their new queen and her child-like heir.
(Praise the witch!!!)
