Back in the day, when life was pure, We savored stories and smoked delights for sure, Every breath a reminder of a life whole, Twenty years passed with five high notes to toll.
Singing memories that define our tone, Merry tunes that refine and set our goals in stone, Nine quotes of pleasure and cries of joy, Inscribed agony that fueled our soul to employ.
Declining the binds of tomorrow's tales, We wrote every page with a fine note that never fails, But life now high, has left us sold, Words failing to express the stories we've told.
From CID to DID we danced off crime cases, Reviving the groove of patrol, redialing new bases, Fast-forwarding fate, last call, born dawn, Marking known papers that cut sharp short, faith half-sort drawn.
Ascending with a friendly vibe, deadly kind, Dementing times, rising ahead, cementing smiles in our mind, Still tending naive to cry one last time, Heart vending rhymes, for sale, buy a barely spiked dime.
Up verse with reddish strikes, grace bond appending slight, Still pending vice, worth through our virtue, depending on perfection's light.
-The Darkest Stranger