I don't like to read this.
Let me see if I can read something else.
I've got to read 29 poems, so.
It's like mystically, 29's real good.
I can't-- well, thirty's all right.
But I'm tired of reading this, even though it's good.
Why don't you read it?
[ISOUND OF PAPER MOVING] You think I'm funny, but look,
I'm serious.
This is what most of my life is taking up with, doing things
like this and making decisions.
Because I find it rather hard.
Libras, supposedly, do.
This is called "Woman to Man."
"Lightning hits the roof, shoves a knife,
darkness deep in the walls.
They bleed light all over us.
In your face, the fan folds up.
So I won't see how afraid, to be with me, you are.
We don't mix, even in bed, where we keep ending up.
There's no need to hide it.
You're snow, I'm coal.
I've got the scars to prove it.
But open your mouth, I'll give you a taste
of black you won't forget.
For a while, I'll let it make you strong,
make your heart lion, then I'll take it back."
And lion is L-I-O-N. And it means exactly what I said.
I can't get rid of that one, which I didn't want to read.
Don't mind the mumbles.
The mumbles, you don't hear, unimportant, you know.