little princes in their parlors little dogs with jeweled collars little daughters with their father walking down the hall of mirrors
bring the great book, bring the scribe learn today how we survive bring the portrait painters by and watch today how we survive how we survive
the line must never depend on just one there must always be a second son
horus nexus, a praxis chorus, lets us sing hymns and hexes, flex them porous, all around the ring stone stains wet, the moral's for us to watch what we spill if your pain pours through you will as the grain falls, when tilled they may lay your body down with your name still fertile names survive
if a strange fate should fall on the first one there must always be a second son
there remains the approach of river and pan the stream is rich, we'll find our gold we'll let the water reclaim the sand and have some pleasure as we grow old