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In the Mean Time Blood talks It speaks the language of prophets and of fools But I have cancelled my enrolment In the college of pain, and I'm Seeking out A gentler degree I'm seeking out A gentler degree I'm seeking out A gentler degree I'm seeking out Watched you walking down the steet Thoughts streaming from your head Like bright feathers (primitive fetish, I fancy) Look! there's a red one floating on the breeze A sonnet or a song Plucked out by your beak, it's It's molting season again It's molting season again It's molting season again It's molting season again Violently twisted symmetry The hidden geometry is all wrong Here comes the Christ, here comes the Christ The exploding Corpus Christi in thee Thrystus pounding perennial paranoi Madness all the rage Prisoners in padded selves too delicate to touch Clench your teeth and wonder why Violence has to Hurt so much Why violence has to Hurt so much Why violence has to Hurt so much Why violece has to So you stand upon your stage And you write upon your page (but we'll all be just fine) And rage (in the mean time) And rage