Munly And The Lupercalians - Wulf lyrics

I will say I am a bit benumbed at present. When I was a pubescent pup with my purity affecting me teary eyes, I went prostrate on the floor of an abyss, my situation was dire. For my own boughs were resembling and Asian horticulturists pride and joy. And try as I might, the apex of the pit was beyond my capture. I bellowed ire chaff and gall! At the climax of my yawping a youth gazed over the lip of my pit. I expected the rube to stone me, maybe throw one of his blood lusting hunting hounds inside the ring of my confines, he acting the Caesar to what would be my Christian end. Yet, as he bore into me with his judging regard his large heart rose on the end of his merciful thumb. This gallant maneuvered the torpid limb of one black oak or walnut or willow--inconsequential at present--the instrument creating a gradient for my exodus from from the chasm. And in gratitude, forever more have I brought his penned domicile my offerings. I thought to alleviate the burden of the hunt for his people, to bring them fresh victuals daily. Give them comfort and repose. Let them wolf down my offerings. Ha! I have always had a sad wag to my tongue. Yet, now I unearth the accusations of my nefarious behavior. You have sent three to off me! Do you have no more woman to blame? Are there no more blacks to censure? You have exterminated my brethren the Chippewa to position myself as the fountainhead of all your miscreant ways. With this I cannot accede. My generous ways are rescinded. If Iam to be your reprobate I shall at least enjoy the malefaction! And I have a redux to my thesis, a section '2A' to my outline. As I satiated my needed dormancy in the womb of my grotto, escaping the loathesomeness of the sun. In a dream state I concocted my next program that held with a romantic lean. Not like one of your matronly Southern poets who will drown themselves upon the first disclosure towards their acts of cribbing. Yet something with cunning and irony, it would take astute cracker jack execution. Even dare I say, swell headed! I would pad my feet over the nettles of my ebon forest, slink on my belly, succumbing to the chastisement of the thistles as I treverse through the pastel lea. Conscious and wary of the 'Nimrods' lusting for my completion. Them Three Nimrods you sent after me! I would perch outside the thin black young trunk like spiked iron bars that encompa** the hovel. I would flash my red wet smile up to his window, engrossing his youthful curiosity to descend to his cloister. Falling upon my haunch I would entice then influence the boy to mount upon me as if I were one of your doltish labor beasts. Then I would traverse over the land, making him witness to my wretchedness, corroborator to my upheaval. He would testify to these undue accusations. Would you people recognize him upon return? Would this last act be the millstone round the neck of my catalogue of deeds? You blame me for the future, you blame me for the past, you blame me for the plenty which you never can make last. You blame me for the heat, you blame me for the cold, you blame me for your courage which has never taken hold. you blame me for the light you blame me for the dark, you blame me for the angels which never came to hark. You blame me for the dry, and the wet that makes you ache, you blame me for your love which still has yet to take. You blame me for the sadness, and your work which cant get done, you blame me for your mocking cast of the setting sun. I might as well commit the sins for being blamed for them!