“Weep for yourself, my man You’ll never be what is in your heart Weep little lion man You’re not as brave as you were at the start Rate yourself and rape yourself Take all the courage you have left Wasted on fixing all the problems That you made in your own head But it was not your fault but mine And it was your heart on the line I really fucked it up this time Didn’t I, my dear? Tremble for yourself, my man You know that you have seen this all before Tremble little lion man You’ll never settle any of your score Your grace is wasted in your face Your boldness stands alone among the wreck Learn from your mother Or else spend your days biting your own neck But it was not your fault but mine And it was your heart on the line I really fucked it up this time Didn’t I, my dear?”

“We’ll rise again We’ll rise again We’ll start again Like they rose from the dead again, Such thoughts move straight through their head again, Blessed as the children of men, Who saw that swords strike less that the pen. Surfacing from primordial waters We are the sons and daughters of Rawkus, Take your pretence to the slaughter, Leave adversaries hung, drawn in quarters. As we awoke that morning, yawning, Blessed with a new skin forming, Eyes squinting, claret still pouring, Fists clenched, grasping, crying out calling, Lungs gasping, absorbing endorphin, We this unsuccessful abortion, Spartan spawn, sworn, Raised for warring, All told and we’re reborn again. I don’t need their eyes on me, I don’t need no sympathy.”