And so my soul collapsed into a big guilt wadnSome big thunder law forces me to eat shitnAnd if I was a word could my letters number a hundred?nMore likely coarse and guttural one syllable Anglo-Saxon.nnI'm a victim of fact let's say I loved a girlnBut the world was wrong and I was forced to march in linenBut it felt like handcuffs - machines disregard my pronounsnI am defeated - I'm a cool damp clay