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 myself no harm still, I have a mania of dangerous dimensions and I must bite my tongue learn to contain my words my words are poison my words are violent my words are strange and I must bite my tongue 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 I’ll mix myself a potion to liberate my mind
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