To need wanting; what a curse; I scurry and worry to curry the verse.
A jealous madman, lead a’fly; to mete out the gristle, to loose the cry.
And to who I know not I tie my lot, yet all the faster I winde
Take up the slack and crank the rack; these, the ties that bind
Heavy the weight that seals my fate; still heavier the pen
Nevermind judge and jury; executioner reside within
The sight of my creation, the fright of needle to arm
A taste of approval, the wicked juice for which we sell the farm
Give a rhyme, commit the crime; just once and hooks sink deep
Express the life within the breast; but known the cracks for creep
Fix and fixer his happy elixir, treated by the self
The need for wanting, from outside, the path to illest health