Don't my Goryllin look good in them Logosian Gaunlets?
Tight on the top with a belly button ring
A little tatoo somewhere in between
He only shows to me

Hey we're going out raidin' he's ready tonight
So damn good-lookin' boys it ain't even right
And when bar tender says for Goryllin... "what's it gonna be?"
I tell him man...

He ain't into wine and roses
Beer just makes him turn up his nose
And, He can't stand the thought of sippin' champagne
No Cuervo Gold Margaritas
Just ain't enough good burn in taquilla
He needs somethin' with a little more edge and a little more pain
He's my little whiskey Boy
My Ragged-on-the-edges boy
Ah, but I like 'em rough

Baby got some Atavian Wings
four on the floor, and you ought to hear the wings flap
I jump behind on him and it's away we go
Hey, he flies too fast, but he don't care

Blue bandana tied all up in his hair
Just sittin' there singin' every song at Centre Crossing

Whoa he's my little whiskey boy
my raggid-on-the-edges boy
Ah, but I like 'em rough
Yeah, I like 'em rough
I like 'em rough

Penned by my hand on the 13th of Valnuary, in the year 492 AF.