Blesséd are the sinners,
Who seek the serpent tongue,
For theirs are all the plura-lingua
  options yet to come.

Blesséd are the Hamiltons,
The writhing, pistol brains,
Be theirs a noble compass that
  can't point towards what's sane.

Blesséd be the man
Who freed me with his past
For all he chose and all he knows
  speaks me before and last.

Blessed be trumpeters and drummers,
Blessed be strings and winds
For though they decrescendo,
  they'll always have their twin.

Blessed be his communion
Cupped hands and padded knees,
Bless his mortal meat for his
  is the communicable disease.

And blessed be his open seas
Wherever they may take him.
For whatsoever altars form
  my love are bound for heaven.