In a room, you will find no pink walls or purple door
You will find a dark place written with signs of civil war
Beneath your bed, enveloped in fright
Hidden in the gutters till they appear in the night
They’re those petrifying stories your parents told you in bed
That succeeded failure to escape your head
Those were stories of the people painted black,
And infamous White Cloaks who planned to attack.
The White Brotherhood are demons sent from hell,
Given the mission to convey a spell
They will show no mercy till they’ve got their way,
And will show no remorse till they’ve crippled their prey.
There are several colours within a rainbow
Yet these cone headed brutes believe they stand alone.
The change of one voice could be the change of many,
And the form that this could take could be any.
We should not waste our time to ponder and be contrite
For what this time should be used for is for all to unite.