The Ballad of the Twig

Death drips down the dreary walls
as lifeless lips part ways to call for lovers lost
within the halls of hell-bent men set
to the fall.
The fall of evil, wretched twigs
who rule the world beneath their wigs
and corporate structures born as big while here I sit,
and roast my rig.
Justice, Just us, Just you and I
my dear must trust I tell no lie
I stay with you for in my eye I see that if I leave,
I'd die.
Cowardly, they call at me, and curse me while I sit idly
With you my dear and watch them flee as light and dark die violently.