I am angry I am ill. and I'm as ugly as sin. I don't know what keeps me alive and kicking. I know the meaning of life. it doesn't help me a bit. I know beauty. and I know a good thing when I speak it. . This is a song from. under the floorboards. here is a song from where the wall is cracked. my force of habit I am an insect. and I must confess I'm very proud of that. . I have known the highest and I've known the best. I accord death with all its due respect. but the brightest jewel inside of me. glows with pleasure at my own stupidity. . I used to make phantoms I could later chase. Images of all that could be desired. Then I got tired of counting. all these so-called blessings. And then I just got tired