O Mortal Men, Be Wary Of How

A Rapid Bolt Will Rend The Clouds Apart, And Every Single White Be Seared By Wounds. I Tell You This. I Want It All To Hurt.

Perceive Ye Not That We Are Worms, Designed To Form The Angelic Butterfly, That Goes To Judgment, Leaving All Defence Behind? Why Doth Your Mind Take Such Exalted Pose, Since Ye, Disabled, Are As Insects, Mean As Worm Which Never Transformation Knows?

As Flowerlets Drooped And Puckered In The Night Turn Up To The Returning Sun And Spread Their Petals Wide On His New Warmth And Light-just So My Wilted Spirits Rose Again And Such A Heat Of Zeal Surged Through My Veins That I Was Born Anew.

Love, Who Insists That Love Shall Mutual Be, Link'd Me To Him With Charm Strong As Our Fates; Even Now It Leaves Me Not, As Thou Dost See.

If You're Asking For A Date, Forget It. 'cause I Make It A Point Not To Go Out With Women Who Shoot Me In The Head!