Disclaimer: J.K. owns everything Harry Potter. I've almost given up
fighting that. Some day, maybe.... Anyway, this is my rap thing about
Voldie. Review, whatever your opinion on it is. I like constructive
critique, and constructive flames are groovy too, if that's any enticement
to review.
From the desk of Professor Albus Dumbledore, found by a house elf cleaning the Gryffindor commonroom.
Write it in Dust
"For men use, if they have an evil turn, to write it in marble: and whoso doth us a good turn we write it in dust."--Sir Thomas Moore
Dust, dust, dust
Like writing it in iron
Vulnerable to rust
And so to be remembered, malevolence is a must
Betray their trust
Never love, only lust
Is what rules your desires
Along with fucking with people's social lives by killing off their friends
Johnny never sees his girl anymore; he just pretends
No one would deal with the hurt
You're just another corpse to bury in the dirt
He wipes his tears off on his shirt
And moves on to the next blowing skirt
Your death is carved in marble (if you're rich)
Your life? You could have been an angel or a bitch
No one knows, no one cares, and soon the record will be lost
What is His cost?
Him? Capital H-i-m
Still means a God, who can still condemn
And we still say Vol- ahem
You-know-who, in conversation, prose, and poEM
So the baddy's carved in marble and the rest of us are dust
Dust, dust, dust
I'm writing in disgust
From a place that's prone to rust
And for this age to be remembered
Fighting back is a must
And for the kids, only the muse you can trust
And only love, and never lust
-Be it for body or violence-
Is what fuels me.
From the desk of Professor Albus Dumbledore, found by a house elf cleaning the Gryffindor commonroom.
Write it in Dust
"For men use, if they have an evil turn, to write it in marble: and whoso doth us a good turn we write it in dust."--Sir Thomas Moore
Dust, dust, dust
Like writing it in iron
Vulnerable to rust
And so to be remembered, malevolence is a must
Betray their trust
Never love, only lust
Is what rules your desires
Along with fucking with people's social lives by killing off their friends
Johnny never sees his girl anymore; he just pretends
No one would deal with the hurt
You're just another corpse to bury in the dirt
He wipes his tears off on his shirt
And moves on to the next blowing skirt
Your death is carved in marble (if you're rich)
Your life? You could have been an angel or a bitch
No one knows, no one cares, and soon the record will be lost
What is His cost?
Him? Capital H-i-m
Still means a God, who can still condemn
And we still say Vol- ahem
You-know-who, in conversation, prose, and poEM
So the baddy's carved in marble and the rest of us are dust
Dust, dust, dust
I'm writing in disgust
From a place that's prone to rust
And for this age to be remembered
Fighting back is a must
And for the kids, only the muse you can trust
And only love, and never lust
-Be it for body or violence-
Is what fuels me.