in toes decided who we the With really the a life under doing
to make tried And the filamentary corpuscles have all exploded,
just as my confidence and my hair have eroded my senses disengaged
resting comfortably numb shall I not be had by the Lord in derision? I
longed to vox the voder. Hear the silent rushing hum. In my brain I
feel I should make an incision And
When is this ranting to end!? I declair.