My lips have been loosened, so let the storms rage.
My jail has been shaken, the door open on my cage.
My tools of the trade all laid out on a table,
A smile on my lips, I am ready, I am able.
My job, long forsaken as a kind of fool's errand,
Has rekindled the flame in my heart, mind, and soul, and
I take the steps on an old and worn path -
These are the early warnings of my coming wrath.
Fear not, oh dear friend, my wrath isn't for you,
But for myself and my past. I suggest you let me through.
For the only people I will hurt on this day...

Are myself and whoever will stand in my way.