The mind escapes and I am lost. There is my confession: I don’t know. I have this malady, old malady, and I do not always know who I am or the faces of my friends. They say I am another when I am he, not myself. Yet, who am I, or where, when he is me? These last few days, I have been searching for my mind. If there is blood on these hands, warn me. I should like to wash.
Sing to me. I am ready for rapture. David sang for Saul, and for a while Soul was better.
Tale Told 