Oh robespierre
What are you doing here
We left you to die
In the cold dark tunnels of night

Such a beautiful day
To go out and fight
To make my mark
Till the last fires burn bright

The keys to good living
Are found in the doors of saints

We took our shivs
And made incisions
And the scrolls came forth
And we caught them in towels

Oh what a read
Oh what story
I haven't felt this good
In a couple of hours

Soft walls