The beginning and the end, no matter what I do, I'm caught in between them, is music playing, can’t even get lazy, or the rot will get to me, and being willful is just wrong, the beasts and the spirits can smell my intentions, but they gave me the ability, to fish ideas out of the sea, and write poetry, I guess we must all, be content in our prison, unless work is calling, a great evil haunts the land, we must go on a journey, the genocide killed many, so much dirt and grime, roll it up into a ball, call it a mountain, damn, it just keeps coming out, I forget, am I responsible man?

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