The Goat

I remember everything, to be what I've become
A willingness for anything that can and must be done
I remember writing in the womb, wrapped up in viscous gloom

My will is calling out like a sweeping plague
Swallowing the mountains and the deserts and the rain

I remember thinking once that love could never die
But love is small and very frail and can't be kept alive
Unless you love the one for whom roars this internal din
The love that devours everything, the love of self burns within

My will is calling out like a sweeping plague
Swallowing the mountains and the deserts and the rain
Raping what is left of you, two flesh becoming one
My will is everywhere, my will be done