Trapped in webs of my affliction I decided to revolt.

Changed my outlook and diction, gave myself the dreaded jolt.

Understood confused and dreary, overtook deficient ways.

If I’m gonna travel lightly, won’t be counting the days.

Gonna live in my dominion, start a vineyard, walk a path.

Your opinion notwithstanding, I will listen less and less.

Suffocate the tender babies, rain hot lava on their homes,

Or perhaps I’ll make a shroud and just bury them alone.

Or perhaps I’ll teach the toddlers, or perhaps I’ll help the old,

Got priorities on point, I’ll be honest true and bold.

And perhaps my very vision was immeasurable to build,

And perhaps I’m rather proud, never feeling any guilt.

And perhaps I got the answers, ones evading you for long,

And perhaps a necromancer could have even got this wrong.

But I’m never wrong, you hear? Hence I never make mistakes.

I’m no Saint, no believer, not attending – causing wakes.

I’m OK with being foul, it’s OK that you feel shocked,

On the prowl, keep my vowels, ran afoul and unlocked.

That’s my story, got to go, don’t keep up and just forget,

Getting high or dropping low, this is real, not some bet.