My speech is ripped,
Not given, but taken.
But I shake each time I do it.
Indeed, I don’t preach; I would be a charlatan and lesser man.
There comes a point when rhyme and reason don’t mix.
Fix it in your head, for on the morrow there comes dread.
The most dangerous are they who have nothing to lose,
Abuse at your will,
But they can kill.
