My Son, Your Ineptitude Is So Vast,

Ah. My Story. Are You Certain You Wish To Hear It? It Is Long, Unlikely, And Remarkably Unedifying -- Shameful, Even, To Come From A Minister's Lips. Blasphemous, Too, Properly Regarded.

But I Still Feel I Waste A Lot Of Time Leaning On My Elbow And Thinking To Myself, 'alright Sucker, Now What?'

And What Good Is It To Me That You're Here Now? Where Where You Twenty Years Ago, Ten Years Ago? How Dare You, How Dare You Come To Me Now, When I Am This?

You Pile Of Stones, You Waste, You Desolation, I'll Stuff You With Misery Till It Comes Out Of Your Eyes. I'll Change Your Heart Into Green Grass, And All You Love Into A Sheep. I'll Turn You Into A Bad Poet With Dreams.

Farewell,' She Said. 'i Hope You Hear Many More Songs' - Which Was The Best Way She Could Think Of To Say Good-bye To A Butterfly.