Hefty hearts in the light of night.
Trust Troy to try the Turkish Delight.
Wisps of rain bringing memories of pain.
Thickets of sorrow annexing my brain.
Rapping, rapping, rapping about Troy.
Raping, raping, raping that boy.
I'm going to need someone to clean me up.
This line doesn't even rhyme.
This line is for you, Bill.