The poem
Enough chattering violets enough sweet trash I won't hear anything know anything Enough enough of all
I'll say the last enough Fill my mouth with earth Grit my teeth
To break off you skull guzzler To break off once for all
I'll just be what I am Without root without branch without crown I'll lean on myself On my own bumps and bruises
I'll be the hawthorn stake through you That's all I can be in you In you spoilsport in you muddlehead
Get lost