I sat at the corner of the street, the writer abode
My hand sketch nonsense at the end
Of all my epileptic episodes... I finally wrote directions
To section of my thoughts and find a way off writers block
Stopped and asked to turn back at the horizon
By guards carrying loaded quills... Fresh ink drying
Spilled fresh from writer trying to defy
...From death certificate autograph signing
Days steem rolled over us pressing tar to our skin
Melted from the monotnous sun and became our ink
Words dripped on our epedermis
Mouth tattoed our body as these sentences spoke
Madness broke loose, each stroke produced
Obtuse and arrogant thoughts
Lost a a mental strain of germ on witers block
We gave a name, a title. Gave it collar tagged
"Bible" ... A wild chap he was given
To the Ku Klux Klan- and he grew out of hand
And they lost religion