I am frightened like a child lost upon a day trip
And angry, vengeant upon who I do not know

O, but I am no calm saint of a man!
For there is a surge and a storm in my gut
It spins and roils, this queasy gyre
Circling my hate and my love and all the anguish and fury of the seas!


And my fingers they tremble with the potent rage of apocalypse wind!
My arms pulse with sickening static by
The lightning pounding through my veins

And I wail and sway and groan
As if I were casting a hex upon the entire world