(on this great big raft,
and what, but soft)
but for that profound undertow
A bloated insecurity,
like underminings,
loving beaver dams
there goes lethargy, atrophy,
That I may scoff or smirk,
willy-nilly
My temple, my soothsayer, my soverignty,
that I was a whore
and riches were my instincts
