He was birthed with a curse

Fantastic ability to change his mask

Generate Skins from within

Six faces, old six sided ugly was playing with putty

Making faces before five

His fourth eye, dead, dripping dark dye

Down the murky side of whatever perfect life he would interpret for the night

Virgin like tight, to the worlds and their plights

He'd switch skins to fit in, they called him Rustlah Sixskins

Big thin, witch kin, spinning yarns like Stilskin by the million

For anybody that feels him

He made a living as a speaker for the dead, misled, thizz heads

Whose bones he kept underneath his bed

At dawn, he morphed, another mask on with a bright smile

From years of braces, the man with many faces

Trading lives like trading places

His mind a churning eddy, murphy bedding burning through the friendly fire

Dunny need money and funding to start running

So his implant hit a big flash like GET CASH

After work he wear a pig mask and sip a big flask

Quit that, did that on the up and coming Monday, hit that Solomon Grundy

Followed them pinky DIY no gimmick interests down every path until he finished

A duffel bag filled with Rustlah masks

Backseat driver with six voices telling him its all right before the underpass

Overkill, leave all the hunters gassed over ill

Summer's passed the winter will get colder still

He duck, broke a bill, dipped a top a hellish hill, metal filled

A deadly deal signed in turn with seven seals

Opened portals out of Portland to unpopulated planets planning

Painting perfect people picture them exactly where they're standing

Ants under his micro glass, he laughs behind his Michael mask,"

You are just like me, recycled trash left behind at Bible class, blessed

To find a typo's task, press rewind watch life go back."

Stories told in camera phone, structured like a stanza poem

Watching all the ants go home,he was left alone

A stepping stone to where the jesters go to dance and moan