Fear And Loathing In Mahwah, NJ

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?

[Spoken:]

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;

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;

Set fire on barns and hay-stacks in the night,

And bid the owners quench them with their tears,

Oft have I digged up dead men from their graves,

And set them upright at their dear friends' doors,

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.

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.