Once upon a decade, there were so many moods so I chose to tail only one
Tale of a brigadier to a general
Shadow to a darker light
Little Wolfgang to having his own Wolfpack
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
Shy,
Can someone shine their hie on his lonely head through the window?
Eye of the soul, don't be a thief
Don't knock on the door unless you Baal in a chromed one piece with shades of his Pops beautiful in this twisted fantasy
Reality got three heads, his Pops an unreachable Godhead
Two fiends and a human head between, little Wolfgang surrounded by fake friends
Fake a mushroom house, let that shit blow.
Shrooms in the air like beef into stew
They gonna thicken the the plot irrespective of the perspective
Left the erf to escape the plot but little Wolfgang's conscience still greyed out, call him the 66th Gormenghast
Melancholy on the beach like his spirit ever was
Flaccid in this feat, who gets rock hard to 1894 Munch (you wanna no)
Know?
Oh, apricots drinking tea in the cracks, kaffeeklautschs
Caved in and left the cave to search for a ray of his sol
Ended up with an interlude on the browns
Eyebrowed his ear and ear pumped little Wolfgang with some silence and so he recorded it for the mind mileage, mile for a loud, dark age
Black the sea is
If he had insight, he could invite a lover
Midnight in the moonlight but he knows her
An apricot veiled by a apple bottom
She'll suffocate his free will like a hot broad to a bastard fish in the wind Fishing line, can you gouge out his eyes
Pour some red wine, colour his heart
So grey down there, can he drown in the sands?
Grains playing games, can he escape?
Outside a drug
Crows croaking, snitches glinting cold, default state of mind
Calling, contentment is rowing far away
He's at the shore, no steamboat
He's in his feelings like a deadhead
Positively black like an OG neanderthal but he's still too young
Ancient foetus, ages in ice and metamorphosis
Six in the cold, eleven is red hot perfection, Son of Man coming for the second time
Still one but his mood different
A heptagon come to square the globe
Connoisseur back for seconds
No local delicacies the blooming side of Bethlehem this time
Rome had a chance, speared it, red water
"I know I am a king, stand on my shoulder I can see, ain't know that I could leave"
I know I'm a king so birth the queen persona real quick
Athena with the quips, off Ares with the blades, cut deeper with the words then its back to smithing with ronin mystics in the woodlands
Greatest under the sun covered
Sabbath so little Wolfgang baths with the moon in the water
Esteemed Moondog then its back to the Sunbather
Deaf is heaven but earth listens
God too happy for little Wolfgang's shit
Tyler the only Creator who ever gave a shit .
Sheet, little Wolfgang with the sweats
Bitter brews and melancholic feuds stinking, even inside his grief he shone bright
Its gay, homies are glad then solace came
Unfiltered, cluttered crumples pinking for clarity and pining for drunk tank pink understanding but the hive cold
Held no council for the ticking ten minute minutia but flew off into the verdigris sunset for greener rays
Left him a vagrant mumbling of clashing vagues but he reappeared once more
Locks locking him tight in his Baptist role, he a prophet with red in his eyes Red water in his lungs
Coughing up minute almost minute long sagas, even baptised a drawn and quartered verse with lo-fi water but he was quick to leave with a wordless outro into the wilds. In the wilds forgotten by all but his hounds and the L cults, he was content, content till forced into civilization for he was SICK!
Sick like a young earl, sick like 2010
A transfiguration for the L cults which swam shallow, fished aggressively and were not content with the slow-burning blush punches boastful but he was gone again quick like on-the-Mount Elijah
Not even 40 punchlines, only been an interlude
An old friend come visiting but is soon gone
An oldie come to reconfirm his best under 40 list status then vanish
Best since DOOM without the DOOMS, shout-out to Daniel and Dumile Between Friends, the Cap's always first
Between Villains, vinodemafy the first
Man with the musk, let him secrete something special then its off to shower in a jasper lake
And little Wolfgang?
Titanic on this shit, went under, back into the dark below. Will he be Jekyll or Hyde?
Jackal and eat or hide?
Inspecting the mind flow, mind grows cold from the mines little Wolfgang sowed
Weed mines mine, clipped from the sun sight, Daedalus dying from the sun smile, Icarus plight kills inside
Who seen the ghoul laugh, soul sink sit in his soul's junk seat
Smoke till he tees off, still wears the tee, Tyr
What does little Wolfgang love 'bout Tuesday?
The present, that's a lye L
The past, that's the empire falling, OD L
He's unsteady on his feet of clay, reminiscing, shorts short as a pulp tail
How long till the crumbling empire of old crashes? How long till he feels the death throes through his damned toes? How long till the trumpet truly frees him to fornicate with the accordion, that harsh mistress, Moon?
Dreaming of reading in the stars, newborn eldritchian
Elder leeching off the nebula, nebulous
Dull day in the clay, Splash bro injured, stones on feet splash
Boss stone falling, dream statue crash, variegated end, hush.
Knew an angel once, fine as Wellington on a tongue. When all was sung and dubbed, he went to find the OG in the primordial. Stale off the endless, he went sea side, "see you inside" to the haters, chasers . Left his blonde glow by the beach to bleach the foes , to let 'em digest the light, darken their appreciation of art
He 'bout to scrap off another layer of sauce
Source of the puzzle unsolved, evolving, fourth layer of the wellington
1815 prime, how does little Wolfgang defeat a Wellington when he's a Napoleon?
Already shot his shot, best his 2019 bullet
Snatched the crown from the game then on the shoulder put
New take, new genre, bright future, we all playing
Bro and sis, little Wolfgang and hopelessness
Cloak and dagger searching for grandfather
The past, distant, when Franklin was king, GHOST L
No head, trapped in an upside down birdcage
Elephant brain, napkin sinking, grief in that glass
Whites flailing, trout sinking in hazel past, what's for dinner?
A stare Gemini?
Eyes coconut gaze?
Is this a test? Is little Wolfgang tethering mad?
Merry, Little Wolfgang is a merry sweatshirt dining with a rhyming earl, hell
Hail the pot-polisher of nobles, Earl sunk
Can't go outside till his title matures
Till he sinks back up sink fully, till the beef chokes in black pepper
Vizarded memories unveiled, December 24 blinding as an almighty bulb Hercules sobbing in the silent night
Meek, metronomic repentances chuckle into the light Inner observations on the altar
Goat waiting for the sacrifice, Is it wrong to want to be the Greatest Of A Time?
Greatest of a time, he does not want to be a GOAT
Greatest of a time, Little Wolfgang desires to be a Mozart
Greatest of a time, the Earl desires to be elevated up a level to become a Count Orlok not St Germain. Little Wolfgang wants to be no Jermaine Cole
Count, Count, Count, its gotta be Orlok not Dracula
The Earl does not want to become any type of King Vamp
Sick of Whole Lotta Red, Little Wolfgang is all for Kind of Blue
Sick not Whole Lotta Red but some blue
Blue blood, the Earl strongly desires to be a blue blood like Blue Blood.
Does he become Blue Blood? Does he not? Goat has the answer. Goat is the answer. Answer, Goat. Answer.