So there he lies at the last…
the deathbed convert, the pious debauchee.
Could not dance half a measure, could I?
Give me wine, I drain the dregs and toss
the empty bottle at the world.
Show me our Lord Jesus in agony,
and I mount the cross and steal his
nails for my own palms.
There I go, shuffling from the world.
My dribble fresh upon a bible.
I look upon a pinhead, and I
see angels dancing.
Well… do you like me now?
Do you like me now?
Do you like me now?
Do you like me… now?
(c)