Why do you do the things you've done
and how dumb would you have to be
to do them again like I know you're going to?
If you're the poet you say you are and beauty's in everything you see,
then how can love exist in a world run by people like you?
Because when there's suffering, you're there.
From southern trees, you hang them in the air.
The world screams out in agony and you don't care,
but should the shit hit the fan,
I just pray you will not be spared.
Fuck you.

You took a heart with so much room for love
and filled it with hatred and rage
until there was nothing left but for it to shrivel up and die. People will tell you that if you don't love your neighbor, then you don't love God,
but no god of mine would put light in such unrighteous eyes.
Now the way we hold each other so tight
would look more like a noose if held up to the light because we betray each other in dreams every night.
Now let's never speak of it again, all right?

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Fear and Loathing in Mahwah, NJ song meanings

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The end quote is from Act V, Scene i, lines 129-148 of Shakespear's Titus Andronicus, and is as follows:

Even now I curse the day, and yet, I think,
Few come within the compass of my curse,
Wherein I did not some notorious ill:
As kill a man, or else devise his death; 132 Ravish a maid, or plot the way to do it;
Accuse some innocent, and forswear myself;
Set deadly enmity between two friends;
Make poor men’s cattle break their necks; 136 Set fire on barns and hay-stacks in the night,
And bid the owners quench them with their tears,
Oft have I digg’d up dead men from their graves,
And set them upright at their dear friends’ doors, 140 Even when their sorrows almost were forgot;
And on their skins, as on the bark of trees,
Have with my knife carved in Roman letters,
‘Let not your sorrow die, though I am dead.’ 144 Tut! I have done a thousand dreadful things
As willingly as one would kill a fly,
And nothing grieves me heartily indeed
But that I cannot do ten thousand more.

The end quote is from Act V, Scene i, lines 129-148 of Shakespear's Titus Andronicus, and is as follows: Even now I curse the day, and yet, I think, Few come within the compass of my curse, Wherein I did not some notorious ill: As kill a man, or else devise his death; 132 Ravish a maid, or plot the way to do it; Accuse some innocent, and forswear myself; Set deadly enmity between two friends; Make poor men’s cattle break their necks; 136 Set fire on barns and hay-stacks in the night, And bid the owners quench them with their tears, Oft have I digg’d up dead men from their graves, And set them upright at their dear friends’ doors, 140 Even when their sorrows almost were forgot; And on their skins, as on the bark of trees, Have with my knife carved in Roman letters, ‘Let not your sorrow die, though I am dead.’ 144 Tut! I have done a thousand dreadful things As willingly as one would kill a fly, And nothing grieves me heartily indeed But that I cannot do ten thousand more.

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crippledmcgimpon December 18, 2008 Link
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