Forum Overview :: Cabaret Voltron :: Bachhus' Lonely Hours

[quote name="CrackerBarrel"]The paeans, the pathos of Greek tragedy, The caucaphonous wailing of the peasantry. The furrowed cheek of the Great Plains matron, The distant eyes of the opium patron: All are lost, all forgotten, save one lonely protective shell. In the crags, the filth of the distended night, we pace, we limp, under arc-flare light, shadows shifting under clumping heels, we surrender quickly to unseen deals. The dealer: a bastard, a beggar, a wench, happily we deal beside the trench, but there, within, we are justly rewarded, for the sinking of minds and notions unguarded. Here Bacchus treads preparing his steeds, for the uprising, the battle of deeds, and of minds that perhaps have forgotten, but it will not be rotten, in our minds or his, We rise and stumble to Hell. (I suck at rhyming, but I thought I'd give it a shot.)[/quote]