I bled on a pivotal stretch  Like a clockwork Christ  Bears sore stigmata, bored    And as I threw Job, I drove  Myself to a martyred wretch  To see if I drew pity  Or pretty litanies from the Lord    So the plot sickened  With the coming of days  Ill millennia thickened  With the claret I sprayed  And though they saw red  I left a dirty white stain  A splintered knot in the grain  On Eden's martial aid    So glad for the madness    I walked the walls naked to the moon  In Sodom and Babylon  And through rich whores and corridors  Of the Vatican  I led a sordid Borgia on    I read the Urilia text  So that mortals wormed  As livebait for the dead    And as I broke hope, I choked  Another Pope with manna peel  Dictation to DeSade  In the dark entrails of the Bastille  And as He wrote, I smote  A royal blow to the heads of France  And in the sheen of guillotines  I saw others, fallen, dance    I was an incurable  Necromantic old fool  A phagadaena that crawled  Drooling over the past  A rabid wolf in a shawl  A razor's edge to the rule  That the stars overall  Were never destined to last    So glad for the madness    I furnaced dreams, a poet, foe of sleep  Turning sermons with the smell  On Witchfinder fingers  Where bad memories lingered  Burning, as when Dante  Was freed to map Hell    I sired schemes and the means  To catch sight of the seams  And the vagaries inbetween...    And midst the lips and the curls  Of this cunt of a world  In glimpses I would see  A nymph with eyes for me    Eyes of fire that set all life aflame  Lights that surpassed art  In sight, that no intense device of pain  Could prise their secrets from my heart    I knew not Her name  Though her kiss was the same  Without a whisper of shame  As either Virtue or Sin's  And pressed to Her curve  I felt my destiny swerve  From damnation reserved  To a permanent grin...    So glad for the madness