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