I took my rifle from down off its shelf I'm not myself but I'm nobody else And took to the woods to be by myself I'm not myself but I'm nobody else That moon is a Eucharist, stale and uneven I'm not myself but I'm nobody else The stars all are maggots in the cold flesh of heaven I'm not myself but I'm nobody else And though the grow fatted on the blood of it all I'm not myself but I'm nobody else They're destined to sicken and wither and fall I'm not myself but I'm nobody else So I took that rifle from down off its shelf I'm not myself but I'm nobody else And took to the woods to be by myself I'm not myself but I'm nobody else