TRWAP version. With math.
View attachment 1937
Can't remember where we were on the soft music. Don't want to have to page back through the endless rondo of "whose the pussy" to find it. So lets go with an old white guy's translation of Sanskrit love poetry instead as a soothing tonic. That should work.
"Death I take up as consolation....And never a bed without my bright darling. Most fit that you strike now, black guards. And let the fountain out before the dawn.
Even now-I know that I have savoured the hot taste of life. Lifting green cups and gold at the great feast. Just for a small and a forgotten time. I have had full in my eyes from off my bride. The whitest pouring of eternal light. The heavy knife. As to a gala day."