My name is Mikhail-a,
I come from Manila,
I study in a prison cell there -
The people I meet,
When I walk down the street,
They say what's your name, and I say:
"My name is Mikhail-a,
I come from Manila,..."
And so on and so forth.
I was love-forged 17 years ago. I used to be well-to-do, but the dreary existence of day-to-day human affairs has caused me to retreat into words - of love, and hate - of power, and weakness - of others, and mine; whether knowledge holds illimitable dominion over all is the business of those who have the power to include it, and I am not [one of those].
Good'ay t'yall, howdy do d'er?