Upon the wall, a chemical vision embraced Not a mention of his once-true-love, It was not the name of his artistic muse- And it was not my name. Nor in the painful void beneath his assembled production, Were the two simple symbols contained that mask my identidy. Together, we were the Kings of Cans- In HAVOK we built an empire. So that demons rest on empty thrones, With the Emerald City behind them both He knows nothing regarding appreciation of time spent in the wall's respect And the passion for the throne. Unseen, he knows nothing of my will to succeed. Unmasked, he knows nothing of his will to survive.
