"The music man, he tells no lies, he sings but the truth and butterflies. A word for a word a song for a song. A club for a spade, a heart for a tear. The joker laughs! The queen kneels! The king watches on! And the dukes look with pride! Yet even then, the music man's diamonds are still merely rocks. Look at his vile, as it flies for a while. Those who come in contact cry with their villainous smile. Corpses all strewn about, dismembered by a song and dance that came through the murder's roundabout. A music man, oh how he Dances and Sings! Yet nobody sits there and still believes. He sings a song oh! A dreadful song! One of me and one of thee! In the depths of solitude, he continues his work carving and cutting those who dared listen! A world where a hand grasps and holds us, in a cage made of the bones and flesh of the past! Grasp and grasp! Crush and Crush! The sound of the pressure ringing a sharp A! Hate and hate, hate, hate,hate! For there he runs, away from the future back towards the past! The blues, greens, and the yellows all come to pass, in the rigid and rough life of the present Red and Pink Circus. Grinding teeth, He yells with a screech, wits lost in unparalleled defeat. Defeat of the mind, the defeat of the weak. Scream and Scream, as the wasps begin to sting! Sing and Sing, as the others flee and flee! The daggers laced with poison will still come to thee! Oh! My sweet music man! Let your song not be forgotten! Let it not be erased by the knifes piercing your face! A drip and a drip, the eyes rolled back. Tearing and running, running, run, run, run! Those false musicians playing their tune through the holes in the music man's bones. Yet, his grasp oh! His mighty grasp still Plagues the soul! moors of red grow and grow, up with a rhythmic 'tap' 'tap' 'tap'. Impatience and patience join as one as a 'snap' rings clear, the music box was never made of cheer. A guise made of gold, and a tomb made from loathe. A grasp beginning from heaven, yet ending by Their hell! As once it is there it is not forgotten. So I say to thee with my joyous glee! From one music man to another, continue that pink contract. The one surrounded in the fires of pain, the one laced with the shadows of despair, Yes! Hold out your icy, warm hand as you grasp it! The lovely pink joke! The Circus of unfortunate hope."