[Verse 1]
Once upon a time there was a boy who died
Forced out of lifelessness and hellbent lies
Here’s the breakdown
About a kid who was living uptown
Sorcerer’s designating new rules and quests for fools
Dark dumb chewed recruit carved skulls in desks and drew
Other greenhorns escalated on cast dispelled the few
Eight to three impound seven rings of hell dipped in the flint hills
Each passing second licks life up and fate ends and sealed
Habitation became an irritation, thought they said, “Life’s how you make it?”
Mother birth reassures making the kid knows she fakes shit
Infiltrates the barrack spot, somehow lifespan is less of a fried job
Listens to underground shit that makes the mind rock
Slips pills dipped in his quill’s fill, still makes the company shrill
Anything to deteriorate a return to brigands stomping hills
Aroused in the juncture space face to face with spawned queen eels
When the sun becomes shallow
We shun the real creators into the gallows
[Hook]
Hell seeks no path
If deceit is what you seek that’s sad
No hath deemed impossible to hack
No plausible explanation is had
[Verse 2]
January 26th, at the hour of apparitions
Death’s hematocrit begins his mission
There’s a story from legend and folklore
About a kid left in the woods for a dark lord
No other organism knows more thrill
This tail begins at a house on a hill
3 day hike from the Mouse Inn Mill
Internal evil made by an unknown fist kills
Young Timmy about age 5, six suns and six moons from his 6th
Every attempt to bugger was dismissed
As child’s play and the dawn of seed that was fixed
At Genesis, Timmy sketched books with red
Aw, look at the woman in the scarlet kit stroll
Not noticing the trail led to the Lion’s den at all
In subsequent, begun adding details to the drawings
Men, dressed in dark rims aiming to burn down homes
Attempts to display all semblance of sorcery
None of the elders dared to see
A spirit growing within Timothy
Years later, those same elders went elsewhere
And Tim grew wealthier
Gathering inheritance from each one
First by pneumonia, second to a phobia
Not known, although it was said she had no hope
Of ever encountering close to a phantom
A shadow of what’s to come
Death toned, young Tim grew perturbed
And alone
Not seen and not phoned
Damn this is story turned cold
Boned Earth’s tone
Generated to a new rooted birthing zone
[Hook]
Hell seeks no path
If deceit is what you seek that’s sad
No hath deemed impossible to hack
No plausible explanation is had
[Verse 3]
A third child not unlike the twinned crooks
Turned to demising distracts like built burning bush
9 years later, 10 year old Lucy came forth
Went outside the Mill to play swords
A wild dog jogged past, a big gasp
Followed by a sense of task
Into the forest
Found a path, walked more
It’s dark now
Parents must have bark frowns
But she doesn’t care
She explored, few moons later
She ran upon a skeleton of a bore
12 minutes more, as she walked towards
The big open door
Her mind determined to explore
Curtains drawn
A ominous vale activates blurred vision is on
The creature appeared near decorated in horns of crud
The evil grin suggested the devil doesn’t fiddle in Georgia
It plays stage left in five
Any second says she may die
Decrepit airflow floor boards alive
Lucy laid herself down and cried
[Hook]
Hell seeks no path
If deceit is what you seek that’s sad
No hath deemed impossible to hack
No plausible explanation is had