Violence is the most temptuous of my demons I grip the reins, clench the bridle confront the past, the mirror shoock, image strewn, was it me, violence is most temptuous 90 miles per hour over the bridge, red and blue lights in the rearview sight right on Celery, past the Indian burial ground and it grew from there, the beams were welded shattered and fractured, bricks and pipes, masks and gloves retribution was all the justification I needed Stood up to them all, but not to myself until I got knowledge of self weekend and shows, Fridays and Wednesdays single file sometimes stretched a mile once inside it was no better boredom supplanted our intelligence the tinnitus walked on all our legs taking on unbeatable odds I knew I'd lose but I didn't care boredom destroyed my prudence retribution again was a tool, an implement of this assailant. He bled on the ground and I stood tall but what did it solve? Stood up to them all, but not to myself until I got knowledge of self.