I took my rifle from down off its shelf (I'm not myself but I'm nobody else) and took to the woods to be by myself (I'm not myself but I'm nobody else). That moon is a Eucharist, stale and unleaven. Those stars all are maggots in the cold flesh of Heaven. And though they grow fatted on the blood of it all, they're destined to sicken and wither and fall. So I took that rifle from down off its shelf and took to the woods to be by myself
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