Thursday

[Holocaust] One Indian brave naive would stand, awesome tasting in the woods He would bury axes with her eyes, the forest could Like the wolverine shards of darkness is seen of no good Like they ain't watching the forest of Massachusetts The hanging monkey, knuckle something shiny, bat hunting extortionist Nothing could, before the Spaniards brought the horse by the wolf He would stake out at night, by the anorexic camp fire An enemy Indian would, he would later charge with a torch and an axe And as they stood, he was hit and broken by spears, off, out the moon's hood His torch hit the ground and the underwood, a small Clan at night Tried to escape and should, because the deadwood's come alive at night, a foot The night's a loft Indian braves became misunderstood And with their spanned spears, they encountered upon man, the rise of the wolves Hahaha...