Amidst this waste of time
I live under this mountain
That might crush the life out of me
Any time, any day
But, I drink anyway.

 Lucifer, Brightest of Bright Angels, stutters out
" Non serviam! 'I will not serve!'”
And that is enough, and more than enough, 
 to condemn all those big words like ‘humanity’.
and 'insanity.'
I will not serve that in which I no longer believe
Whether it call itself my race, my nationality or my religion
Too much grandiosity dims the soul
Makes us old.

I hear the wise ones pleading, pleading when on fire,
Just so much screaming, as the flames they get higher:
Hebane, belladonna, mandrake, datura
All of these, like mescaline, can see right through yer.
A broom, a pitchfork, a basket, or a snake 
The old religion of love
For love’s old sake.

The beautiful Cathars*
Hear the rumble far below
Look at the surface, see nothing but snow.
Hares' prints lead men all the way to folly
Red berries fade on the christmas holly:

Now, I shall go into a hare,
with sorrow and sych and sych meickle, meckle care;
And still I shall go in the Devil's name,
And aye while I go, I come back again.

Sometimes phantasma 
Take my wits away
Sometimes for a minute
Often for a day
Glad to be rid of them
Pfff they are gone. 
My wits, for a minute,
My wits, for a song.