The angry wind I will reap Wandering through My dreamless Sleep Just watch me Harvest the Totured souls Eat the mother Mourned By the calf, The husband Mourned By the wife. I am drunk On the blood Of the helpless, There is no Finer wine. I will burn This carcass To my liking Trail putrid Black smoke In the air. Why Should I care For what I cannot Touch, For what cannot Touch me? I am the Carousel The eye of the Storm Behold How life Dances to My tune!