 It's because there's a great week full of the world I am. And me tormented with the wickedness you told of yourself and drinking oceans of booze that make me forget. Forget. Devil a word I'd forget. And your face grinning always in front of me eyes. Awake or asleep till I do be thinking a madhouse is a proper place for me. You look like you ought to be put away someplace. Wonder you wasn't pulled in.