There's Only Two Pieces of Bread In A Fun Sandwhich

That’s it, go
Search the cupboards for sticks and woes
The empty fridge and sheets with toes
Wretched knobs and curtains that billow
And when you naw away your nails
Think back on what you accused me of
Crimes like that of herself, a Romanov

I’m glad you’re not coming
With your lightning and your sound
We live in fear when you’re around
Of being cleansed and stomped and bound
Let us walk these streets and terrorize
The idea that chaos comes with size
We stand for this