Strike me now, the thunder of Thor!
Straight into my heart for I deserve to be smote...
And make it sweetly, make it nice
make my grave shallow, so I can feel your rains
Cry gods, cry. This sinner be damned!
His tongue is unholy, has been for the decade.
Innocence is gone, and decayed visions
the prophesy of delusions of grandeur...
He is but a bad dreamer, a bad poet
a bad lover, a bad person...
He only weeps for his self, his pity
so that all people see is that crying rain...
Thor! Your thunder is anger, and he holds the bolt in his hands
Straight into his heart like a spear into the backs of a robber in rural Africa...
What is his crime? What is his treason?!
He speaks word of sin against the will of his better judgment!
OH! HOW THE JURY OVERTHROW THE JUDGE!
HOW THAT JUDGE WISHES, SO DEARLY...
TO TAKE HIS REVOLVER IN HAND AND CARESS ITS TRIGGER
INTO THE BRAINS OVER EVERY LAST DEVIL!
HE IS ANGRY
HE IS FEARFUL
HE IS LONELY
HE IS DEFEATED!
HE IS I OH THOR, OH GOD IT IS I!
TWAS' I WHO SHOT DOWN EVERY THING HE HELD SO DEAR!
And now with no remorse, please God, Thor and Heavens!
Take this sinner and put him to bed, to feel pain... no more...
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