AecusRegen

Gone so soon, the hefty raccoon

He saw the best of life under the moon

With a throne of old chicken bones and crown of refuse

The noble raccoon found a second use

​

He came and graced us like a shy deity of night

Not so clean or mighty, but awfully polite

He saw us burdened; buried in our own blight

and he said "No worries my friends, this will be supper tonight!"

​

The obese living fleece was kind enough to eat

And we clapped and we cried and we cherished all our lives

But alas, father time ate the night alive

And when dawn broke, we were all choked, as he bid his farewell to all us folk

​

"Don't worry your head", he said, well fed

"I'll be

The piper played spades

A part to play in the jovial parade

Eyes blinded by the charade

Minds splayed, lives delayed

​

The ceiling talks?

“I am me, I am certain and if I’m not peel back the curtain

And we’ll play, you and I, in the jovial parade.”

The ceiling talks. The doors lock. The white waves try to persuade.

​

The piper’s spade displayed in gray as my mind fades.

​

The man with a lisp whispers quips and my head cracks like a whip

He brays while dead, long since red, in my sleepy head

“Give it some pip” he says, giving me lip

I put it to bed, he owns no space in my head

[1](https://www.reddit.com/r/OCPoetry/comments/q1b5pc/rusting_away

So I think this is probably pretty hopeless due to lack of information, but I've been searching for this song for like 10 years now and I figured, what the hell, might as well give reddit a shot. So here's what I remember:

-The song opened with a sound similar to a bubbling or watery sort of noise and some drums. I think it was an electronic song and it was pretty high energy. Not super fast, but definitely not a slow either. It was pretty and dramatic.

-It was a female vocalist and the lyrics for the song were in a language I don't understand, but I'm pretty sure it was Japanese, it could possibly be some other language, but I'm fairly certain it was an eastern language.

I attempted t

She merits stolen words as gems that fall blind from a dead duke's hand.

It is not I who crafted a lie, but given thrice the chance to change I chose only to remain as I am.

A cast of shade and fevered chills birth a labored breath that whispers my name; it is on these days when you are ill and the sky is gray that you are closest to me.

My hide, loose and useless, when it bore my simple soul.

But on you a cured flesh that shines smart across your breast.

I hope you know, it is not me.

Not one drop of my being remains in that gilded corpse.

You may pull it close and softly murmur sweet tones of gold and rose, but I will not hear you.

You who pulled me from the water to sate your hung