...
(The Art of Playing)
Brothers are supposed to be caring and kind
Yet now he's stopping the storm
His deplorable brother's has long had in mind
For the world since the day he was born
Pieces and pieces, each torn bit will fall
With his madness and anger and hatred in Spades
Unless he succeeds in stopping it all
This plan of destruction he's had pervades
.
He'll stay silent, and quiet, the Devil within
Trapping his sound, a secret most dear
Knowledge that having will allow him to win
His silence uncovered plays as his fear
Puppets and rubble, blood and fires he'll halt
Swords, arrows and Clubs at the ready
Prevent all deaths from his family's fault
Lives can't be in ashes for feelings so petty
.
Sickness and hatred and death, all bound
It's the only world this child has known
On a whim, he declared, a cure must be found
And whisked him away with kindness he's shown
How sad, unfair, how cruel and unusual
Diamonds encasing a heart made of gold
This child has suffered a harsh fate most brutal
No wonder his eyes speak of horrors untold
.
He'll save him, and tell him, and give him his best
The boy will survive this, no matter puppets or fire
He'll do all he can and hope someone plays out the rest
He'll bet all and rescue him, this boy, without tire
He's not black and twisted, and flipped end over end
Spades are too warped, and Diamond's to hard
Clubs are too brutal, with only violence to rend
But the boy's got a Heart, no matter how scarred