Decade of so many moods so tail only one
Tale of a brigadier to a general
Shadow to a darker light
Little Wolfgang to having his own wolf-pack
He only howl sometimes, most times he slink slicks with his new guard
He the avant of the sLums but not always so
Sixth metamorphosis,
From the sea nymph, the dark, the pink, the blurs, the feet
Even the stint in the sarcophagi where he was denied gold but came out coinin' terms
Denied the soul's currency but came out with golden veins
Silver-tongue eloquence eclipses the without
Find it within seeking solace in little Wolfgang's feet of clay.