I can make it I
know that I can make it I’ve been
harvesting troubles since the
world began my blood spoils with murderous intentions but I’m yet resolved to do no harm still,
I have a mania of dangerous dimensions and I must bite my tongue learn to contain my mouth my words are poison my words are violent my words are strange these are my days of blasphemy and thunder and blasphemy and thunder have been my mother tongue very well and
very well I’ll get myself a poultice to suffer up the puss that so infects my purpose I’ll find myself an angle to cure my crooked thinking then mix myself a potion to soothe my troubled mind
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