I am not the master of my space.
I do not want to deal with this place.
I have upset the apple cart many times.
I hate the imperfect limes.
I fall onto my knees.
I brush away ugly fleas.
I know the sound of rolling apples.
I am awake to the ringing of bells in the chapels.
I am dead to one voice.
I hear only one choice.
I am not the master in this place.
I do not want to deal with this disgrace.