And so my soul collapsed into a big guilt wad
Some big thunder law forces me to eat shit
And if I was a word could my letters number a hundred?
More likely coarse and guttural one syllable Anglo-Saxon.
I'm a victim of fact let's say I loved a girl
But the world was wrong and I was forced to march in line
But it felt like handcuffs - machines disregard my pronouns
I am defeated - I'm a cool damp clay