Cake Plinko Anon

Hear me approach the bench,

Jury, I am pleading my case again

I am squeezing my bleeding

Heart o'er this melody

And the beating of rotten chords

Is the disciplistic oar to the

Theseus's ship of my mentality

I'm just trying to

Rekindle that old fire again

Reanimate the corpse and find a soul

under the bones and skin

And is it such a sin

To yearn for creation

I am not a god,

But I know I am

Just an absent father

And I could pretend

That all my inventions come from

Innocence

But I know,

I know they come from

Far much darker

Oh my son, come home

Cease your wandering,

And just surrender

To the old

Oh my son, come home

And I will bury you

Next to your father's soul

Oh, I will bury you

Next to your father's soul

I am guilty of the crimes I am accused of

Though I have followed a righteous path to hell

And if it's the devil's work,

As you say that I have been doing

Then maybe old lucy

Has been long misjudged as well