Sat upon a pillar and looked at the pity plenty down below.
Never been though of one to judge, I guess I found a role.
It's been a little dreary around my soul, could use a pound to blow,
but I'd much rather just be drowned in gold.

City of saints is the town, behold this town is full of soul.
Uphold the whole role as the city of cold.
I'm too bold, from head to toe and back to my shoe's soul.
My only goal is to know wrong from right, it's over, goodnight.

This flows too nice, and lasts for about two nights.
I'm too right, and ready to return like back to school night.
Sorry, I'm still stuck up, in this rude flight.
Now who's tight? I'm in need to lay a new pipe.

Now don't make too much fuss up on the internet.
You're still far from comprehending this born sinner yet.