the coming of the white worm and how it twists and turns in the golden apple mind the stem that is my spine to brush away all doubts to rot me inside out but i wont feel a thing for thats the bliss hell bring the coming of the white worm and how it twists and turns but i pretend to be a friend to stab him in the end a rustling sound way off in distant trees it grew loud yet i felt no breeze but all of a sudden the leaves spun around me and all at once the breeze was upon me the one thats calling the dancing song of praise i come crawling across the mirror of my gaze