Lake Of Fools - W.A.S.P.

Fifty million miles below my feet,

There’s a lot of people,

I’d like to meet

There’s theives and killers,

Harlots and whores

All were misguided

But not any more…

So I see their fate,

In the black of the doom

Waves of fire in the storm,

Creatures howl at the moon,

They’re screaming intensly,

Their cries are heard for miles,

A prince resides their,

Lake of fool, burning wild

From the Mouse ()

Imperial College, London.