The time that I felt something,
Was a cloud of childhood mumbling...

There is someone who is quite different than you...
A crackpot, a charlatan, a menace to society...

There isn't a cure,
No, there sure as hell isn't a remedy...

The United States is my homeland,
Where a boy can be a fine man...

You may have to squint,
Better be pretty hell-bent...

The wind is so warm, as if it was an August day,
Instead of wearing coats, the children are in...

Stillness, akin to time immemorial,
A character of the past, a deplorable...

The wind and the rain attack me again,
It makes me wonder if I'm really that deep in sin...

Hop on, little rabbit, there's food for thee,
But within the garden, death is guaranteed...

Lying flat on my back,
Nothing here but a haze...

There is a side of you I appreciate,
It is a devilish persona you create...

Think not harsh thoughts,
And a gnashing of the teeth...