The Scorpion

The Scorpion

Scintillating swerves,
he culminates into greatness
revibes, spawns, just remnants in these wastelands.
They are peasants, folk working for small wages,
not suited to absorb the divine knowledge that he brings 'em.

The scorpion, the scorpion
he eases you senses
The scorpion, the scorpion
he holds all the answers
The scorpion, the scorpion
he fails to see them

Staggering about, as a drunk in the darkness,
why can't they comprehend the importance of his purpose?
He is handsome, smart, all females should long him.
Thinking of which,
it makes him disgusted.

The scorpion, the scorpion
he eases you senses
The scorpion, the scorpion
he holds all the answers
The scorpion, the scorpion
he fails to see them

The proletarian peasants, I eagerly revolt 'em,
their sheepish way of living; twitter, bourbon
they slug through their existence,
But their joy...
I devour, I crave it.

The scorpion, the scorpion
he wishes to be remembered
The scorpion, the scorpion
he sees himself the rebel,
The scorpion, the scorpion
But all he truly wants...
is to be a peasant.