I'm in the painted ruins, a light breeze on my face, I feel like a boxer being defeated, head on the canvas, heart depleted. I look at my pasture land and rolling fields, a fire blazes and is hissing at me, there are razor blades under your feet if you talk or walk to me. I cannot forgive those who have lied, there is murder by the roadside. There are angels and devils, a war within me, electricity and blood in the lies...wild, vicious cries, and I never close my eyes. There are snakes, frogs and a secret liar, unknown people and strange places, artificial friends, giant faces. A mistrust the size of a glacier, again, you get the slicing razors. I am in a cathedral, beg me, speak softly to me, kiss my feet, there is murder in me, blood all over my face and bedsheets. Where are all the angels and devils, they are fighting inside of me, they live in the grave and grace that sleeps beside me.