Following Facade
Basically bursting and burning with bruises from bastards who bash upon beating beliefs, the cowardly musical playwright- he isn’t- wrote a disaster full of disease. The sleaze, as he called it, was free and above the structures of love and a word wasn’t one just to stop it. The copies they tried to create what he cried as the songs seemed to be made of tears. And fears from them all would just grow like a cancer, dancing with souls as it devoured them whole. And toxic, the drowning in sorrowful pools as tears from the lucky that watched the performance were rained down upon the frowning eluded. Conclusions were made and clamours were clapped, and all were convinced that they weren’t tricked, but loosely believing can beat you by leaving you basically bursting and burning.