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I walk the bows that Satan sews and he teaches me to frown. But I run the show, at least that's what I'm told. It's all for the one that's one foot tall if he breathes with heavy doubt. He won't be consoled, if there's one thing that he knows. But if everyone goes, he'll go. Yeah if everyone goes, I'll go. I dance along a tightrope, all with a song and evening gown for each of the evil beast's white teeth to show. 'Cause when everyone shows I'll know, as the younger ones all grow old and the undertow steals my soul and my secrets all read like jokes cause my evils were all exposed. Just then, the children's fears came true and their little white feet would run, but each of the children's feet were glued and their little white faces, stunned. (Eat another either way 'cause either way it feels the same. Feed the fears or feast away 'cause either feeds the beast and me.) I tie the bows that Satan sews tighter each and every night. 'Cause I run the show, but still do what I'm told. And I've sprouted horns of my own but they just about match your growth. Yeah they look a great deal like yours. Back when the children's fears were new and their mommies would watch them run, each had a pride in common, too, and the easy way always won. That's when the beast would leash them, too. But they'd blame him for what they'd done. Cause each let their pride extend their youth and their little white lies had won. Me and the beast have an understanding.