To stay strapped with the pen, and to see through the dark.
To incarnate from the furnace, but this ain't the Lion's Den.
What I mean, is when I see, the Watcher that descends.
After not bowing, He then turns into a Djinn.
The same color as the widow, but her blood ain't blue.
She sacrificed her child to attain the art of lust.
But back to me, I'm done with the Private Parts.
I'm more about investing in power, but this ain't Salute your Shorts.
Pop the cork, the loved one comes through.
The difference between her and his, is that her blood is blue.
The crew has our backs, to stack racks on racks.
To promote the chosen, the one who spit facts.
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