The Goat

I remember everything, to be what I've become

A willingness for anything that can and must be done

I remember writing in the womb, wrapped up in viscous gloomMy will is calling out like a sweeping plague

Swallowing the mountains and the deserts and the rainI remember thinking once that love could never die

But love is small and very frail and can't be kept alive

Unless you love the one for whom roars this internal din

The love that devours everything, the love of self burns withinMy will is calling out like a sweeping plague

Swallowing the mountains and the deserts and the rain

Raping what is left of you, two flesh becoming one

My will is everywhere, my will be done