Master Of The Bars, ljóð frá 21. maí 2015.

Empty seems this entire world,

or the friends and women dare not stay.

He was king in honor ever,

always working, good and happy, clever.

Master of the bars so cold and knurled,

can they wind it, try and sway?

 

Frightened of the power, pride,

plod they through this world of lies and rust.

More than soulless machines working,

metal people teaching new things, lurking.

Fashion only? - Shouldn't have to hide,

here it's seen, and turned to dust.

 

Europe fell and robots rule.

Rigid humans, look that way but no...

Tattooes, skinny, rivers rotten,

rivals tell them, holes and come to naughton.

Better in that shining, driving drool?

Damsels from the best, they go...

 

What I thought and wanted, hold...

words are useless, fair they hear no chime...

Always thinking, all fine grooming.

Afterwards they find they died when blooming.

Alien skins and only shallow mold.

Ever thought of bans this time?

 

So it's written, must be made.

morals failed and still they think they're best.

Lust is gone and like it's nothing,

left to wonder if she's only scuffing.

Past is gone and pail the wondrous braid.

Pity how you lose the crest.