Not Let god that I should go mad.
No, a staff and a script are easier that.
No, labor and hunger are easier.
It\'s not that I value my minds,
It\'s not that I wouldn\'t, swear by,
Be glad to part with luciditier.
If they had left me entirely free,
How quickly I would, let you believe,
Set of into the dark wood.
I would have sung in a fiery rave.
I would lose myself in the haze
Dissonant, wonderful mood.
And I would listen to the waves,
And I would look, full of braves
Into the empty sky empyrean
And I would be strong, free,
Like a whirlwind digging fields,
Breaking forests region.
But here’s the problem: you go mad tag,
And yon’ll be as terrible as the plague.
They will lock you up due,
They\'ll promptly chain up as a fool,
And thorough the bars, like to an animal,
They will come to tease you.
And at night I will hear at such a jail
Not the bright voice of a nightingale,
Not the shouts dull noise of oak groves blessed
With But the shouts of my comrades mentalmen
And the curses of the night watchmen,
And screeching and clanging of shackles