Rhythm steps up to the precipice, he alters the sum of his sleeves; his speech lined with grace hits us hard in the face leaving tatters in place of beliefs.
Rhythm the foil to bedlam, may his luck bead and drip down his cheeks; once a pilgrim and poor, now the crowd chants a roar, global fame in a matter of weeks.
Rhythm a comfortable fallacy, the consistency key to the plot; such procedures employed to turn listeners annoyed when the deafened dare challenge their thought.
Rhythm entombing the catalyst, all of chaos contained in the earth; permanent mark struck afar through the dark 'cross the brow of the singular's worth.
Rhythm points far to our future, blind as we are to our time; he fashions a hold not quite iron, just cold and explains it's to combat the crime.
Rhythm steps in as to pressure us, messiah reduced to a beat; strange that the drum is of matter to one but the rests make the whole song complete.
Rhythm makes men through the edifice, the visage that begets the vow; so our reverence cements and they quell malcontents till the people know only to bow.
Rhythm of duty and service, given temptuous reason to seeth; he enacts scalding law forcing glaciers to thaw in a gambit to tighten the leash.
Rhythm inflicted with wisdom, ink that betrays sour truths; faintly resisted, this cruelty persisted among all the friends drained of their youth.
Rhythm pumps blood through the powerful, steadily siphoning health; their bodies so frail that their spirits unjail and in failing, leave room for our wealth.
Rhythm succeeded bewilderment, our body which drops to its knees; once he entered with choir now his loss our empire: a shiver, a silence, a plea
Rhythmless steps up the precipice, a gradually slowing ascent; one falter and trip and the hero may slip down the dark well that leads to dissent.
Particular Words in a Specific Order 
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