Cassiopeia preforms Young Rapscallion.
Often I try to debrief the left side of my brain
Keeping my distance relieving what makes me insane
Often I've casted a spell on the things I'm afraid to touch
Keeping what makes me believe I'm distinguished enough
Am I tough enough?
Am I tough enough?
I'm a young rapscallion
Am I tough enough?
Often I pick at the threads of a life seasoned old and gray
Keep me from coming, from going, from fading away
Often I find how to deal with the crime I commit
Keen on believing I needed to prove I exist
Should I've made a fist?
Should I've made a fist?
I'm a young rapscallion
Should I've made a fist?
Tell me a tale from a book I know I'll never read:
...Birds-nesting-slow-kindled-hope-Rosie-Cotton-dancing...
Am I tough enough?
Am I tough enough?
I'm a young rapscallion
Am I tough enough?
Yes I'm tough enough
Yes I'm tough enough
I'm a young rapscallion
And I'm tough enough
(. . . Young rapscallion curious of death. . . )
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