midnight movies vol 3...

alms

i glided like the flame-sparked fuse on a stick of dynamite,

i was screaming acetylene at you, did you hear me?...

i would break your neck with the pure sonic force, call me Blackbolt with a throat full of fire—

its the principle...

you think that's harsh, but what good are you? selling alms from the poor...

there's no promise you'll get yours...

the wheel goes round like the man sang and such and i'm watching, but there's no telling...

roses on a mosaic, he's still waiting...

i'll probably wait forever.