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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