Rusty rain has gnawed away at the tissues of the cerebellum The shepherd led the rams to the slaughter Here he went as easy as ever Unbelief made faith go out the door To get wet in the sour cloud of the downpour Along with the whole contraption a respirator The one that spins fairy tales The generator of menacing faces So you don't dream of a new role Or maybe you're conspiring to do something there I don't know I don't feel Though I greet you affectionately May whatever blesses us...fart save us? Ghost 2025