I have a self image,
It is just a black mass,
An abstract shuffling,
Down the street as we pass,
You notice I am not driving,
No one behind the wheel,
People talk to devils all the time,
I will abide by my deal.
And that is more honesty,
Than you will get from these,
So called “good people”.
Always looking down,
I wonder, just how deep,
Is your steeple?
Ice is forming on my glasses,
Frost sticking to nose,
If my soul were mine,
It would be as empty as rind,
Every time a cold wind blows.
I’m not gonna hurt you Wendy,
Honey, that is insane,
“You didn't let me finish my sentence.
I said, I'm not gonna hurt ya. I'm just going to bash your
brain.”
(Jack Nicholson The Shining)
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