Spurs on both his mighty infant tears of our oil,
Prince Augustus.
Pasta with the lack of razor crowned a princess.
Biding off aside, I must distance the rival.
Tell you something.
Shouting with her brass conduction,
Prince Augustus. Sond the trumpet.
Welcome to the twilight showdown!

Fighting with his eyes, combusted,
Prince Augustus.
Shouting with her head of mustard.
Welcome to the twilight showdown!

Lyrics submitted by bright eyes burn me

The Twilight Showdown song meanings
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