Self-loathing... Feels... Like the right way of expression... Despite knowing better... At the outset... Melancholia... Melancholia... Blight on us... As he stabbed at... You... And you clutched at him... Like a dragonfly fluttering towards its death... On rotted, porous driftwood... It's all the same... Melancholia... Melancholia... Blight upon you... Melancholia... Melancholia... Melancholia... Melancholia... Melancholia... Melancholia... Melancholia... Melancholia... Blight be upon you... And you... And you... And you... And you... You... And you... And you...