Everybody thinks it’s money 

And it spends.

Sticky sweet, like honey

‘Til the end.

But they can’t speak on

What they’ve never lived.

Blinded by the binding light,

“You should know, you’ve got the gift.”

I paint it black, baby.

I hold it close. 
An act of charity

Nobody knows.

My Summer Sun Sonata,

They sing the most. 

You love it, top-to-bottom,

Your favorite ghost.

No bleach and hiding out,

No changing color.

They preach the Only Rule,

I paint it yellow, brother.

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