he heard himself singing his least favorite polling stones song , 'sympathy for the devil ' ( made damn sure that pilate washed his hands and sealed his fate , thank you very much , you 've been a wonderful audience , good night ) , and made himself stop when lie realized the song had gotten all mixed up with memories of jonesy in the hospital , jonesy as he had looked last march , not just gaunt but somehow reduced , as if his essence had pulled itself in to form a protective shield around his surprised and outraged body .