we stuck together with soap; you who seperate lonely & are in need of needle & thread are not of my breed. today i stuffed my pocked with notes taken between breaths; the jarl who has rules ahoon since the weirding king, the grafs below him (margrave, altgrave, raugrave; their inferiors the viscounts; their heirs the burgraves); the voivodes of moyal, their veches, their druzhina, their boiers, & the herzog that replaced them when they were overthrown. notes! notes scratched onto the ceiling of my coffin. swept away by these oceans of confusion. ignore the net! ignore the list! prepare only for revenge! lets sing our old songs at last i beg you. for too long have we toiled under a sun golden & moon silver. talk more of keyholes & wrinkles. of the secrets of infinite space on the inside of every nutshell.