rebuke thee

I cut like a sky through thick cloud, burn
like a brick wall through a life made of ash, of machismo
I've to spare, and I'll spare you plenty. The
figure I cut:
garish, rakish, mannish, - well,
it's all angles and angels and halos
cocked sideways, to hear me talk - wings
folded pretty insolently, harps plucked
sharp and painful, like a duck, to see it
my way - and if you care to check
you'll see I've got two little me's
on the right shoulder, and nobody
over the left. It's
how I've always known.

There's a certain amount of truth to everything,
if you know how to see it, you'll see exactly
what I mean. I mean
what I say

no

wait

is there some way?

That I've missed

no.

way.