THE BROTHERS OF LIGHT

takin a swig of me old lovin looty
brothers of joy fumbling with booty
out of them all, a number are fruity
as he takes a puff things will get more loopy
women from yore and freshmen from tomorrow
thee calleth a dage, a page of no sorrow some may be thick others may be hollow the real question is will she spit or swallow
the relations are growing and nay are they strong
a party or two never got them all wrong tequila or whiskey, thy can all get frisky but the end will always be out of a bong hear ye, hear ye but tell not a soul
kings of tomorrow will never get old
it may be a winter all dried and cold
but these boys are hearty for fancies and gold
cast me a spell and it’s mid tier and risin hidin from nothing but newfound horizon brighter from obscurity they will be surmisin
surely a dage or two will make it brighten
a mixer with dg or time with alpha sig nothing will stop them from dancing the jig