I wish I was A Royal
In a rehab's private wing
Leaving my riches to spoil
And not caring for a thing
I hope I'd be contagious
Turning others hearts to stone
My virus would be outrageous
And medics would be thrown
Scientists would feel low
For nothing that they know
Could help for what's in store
This is after the before
No one can make it clearer
Unlike dusting a mirror
History they will inspect
But their past fail to reflect
While everyone will flee
Not caring who will see
Yet as age will turn hair white
None on Earth escapes The Blight
My flowing stream of consciousness is becoming a trickle.
