Fight priest, fight. Take pictures. Make all right what you have lost and give pride back to the ground. You’ve got all you want, but you got a wreck. Everyone in this whole wide world wake up and panic. Fortune wears a red dress and her bones smell of death. They all stare but no one seeks. They all claim but no one speaks. They all hear what they want. Panic preacher.

Beware of these sheep in the costume of wolves. For lies, they come in pairs of two and we only die twice but for such a very long time. And just because you kiss a lot don’t mean you’re in love. And just because you have begun don’t mean that you have won. I was a second son. I was not born but once and all my friends be gray. They fade out. They all close the door because no one speaks out loud. Take my heart prophet.