a memory lost, a war to begin,
lost in translation through thick and thin.
enemies made are friends in time,
yet you veil every entrance with social slime
may love be a game and hate be the tool,
as you play every entrant in this life for fools.
yet through irony, lust, loss and time,
this twisted sick grouping has cut its last line
a poetic end, through tragic means,
as two trees in your forrest discard their leaves.
follow the jones family, and soon you'll find,
everything you held dear leaving you far behind..