Of rat In fact With every rome inside me Licked and ransacked She haunted at the corners of my mind In black Cataracts Wouldn't whitewash away Her filthy smoke stack She burnt me like a furnace For my future suicide Lead to the river Midsummer, I waved A 'V'' of black swans On with hope to the grave All through Red September With skies fire-paved I begged you appear Like a thorn for the holy ones...