in the winter in a seaside boarding house the killer swigs and wheels round his room telling how he made that weeping spinster kneel yellow light seeps through a fly-glown lampshade fading with the dawn he yells and laughs, "they all wanted it -- it was easy so how could it be wrong?" five am and the seas are boiling five am and the windows crack five am and my hands are on you big madness big madness when i phone you just to hear your voice, oh please don't judge me so it's just that i don't think i'll rise again till i've seen how low i can go next springtime when i'm gone for good and you struggle to find the words cruel enough through all these dying countenance my stupid laughter will be heard five am and the seas are boiling five am and the windows crack five am and my hands are on you big madness big madness big madness
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