A short rattle, about a two head, undead, inbred cattle

A short rattle about a two head undead inbred cattle

We're an abomination
Made in frustration
A cruel creation

Can I be fed some hay?
No pick me! A feast if I may!
I can see, it's for me I'll pay!
Golly gee, I haven't been fed this day!
But I glee, I appreciate it more, I'm a gourmandé
Oh pee, if you pick me I'll tell you the way

To the liches castle
Where he stitches cattle
And the bitches rattle
He makes riches off beast battles

And we sing in the ring this evening
Make dimes off our rhymes for our time
And fight with a wight what a sight
A combat to the death, while we act like macbeth, and perhaps we both take our last breath

But for now we demand food
None of this hay something good
A treat of meat cooked on burning wood