Fear no more the heat o' the sun;
Nor the furious winter's rages,
Thou thy worldly task hast done,
Home art gone, and ta'en thy wages;
Golden lads and girls all must,
As chimney sweepers come to dust.

Fear no more the frown of the great,
Thou art past the tyrant's stroke:
Care no more to clothe and eat;
To thee the reed is as the oak:
The sceptre, learning, physic, must
All follow this, and come to dust.

Fear no more the lightning-flash,
Nor the all-dread thunder-stone;
Fear not slander, censure rash;
Thou hast finished joy and moan;
All lovers young, all lovers must
Consign to thee, and come to dust.

No exorciser harm thee!
Nor no witchcraft charm thee!
Ghost unlaid forbear thee!
Nothing ill come near thee!
Quiet consummation have;
And renowned be thy grave!

I'm a recovering optimist
Climbing in and sometimes out of my cold storage locker
Do not come around here with any warm feelings
Was the hastily scribbled sign written with a dried out marker
on the front door

That I only open when  I'm feeling miserably happy
But only to those young people
Going around pedaling those little pamphlets
That they will give  you for free if you buy their religion
I tolerate this formal declaration of war until they top off my half empty glass

That's great that's great I say rising to become an a hole Usher
Need no flashlight just a glare in my eyes to get them moving
My sudden appearance like I had just leapt from a locomotive
To run up ahead so I could throw that track switch
Happily back on with the sudden Direction Change
Bringing my voice down into a Sinister whisper

You are no longer able to  make my life  more painful
With all your smiles and polite Behavior
So gather yourself and all but one of your pamphlet and go away
Oh yeah ! And don't forget your savior

Slamming the door hard right after they cleared it
But the slamming door Jarred loose a smile on my face
Fortunate was I in killing it before it became full measure
It never got further than just an Elvis Presley type sneer
Then I wrapped it up in that Watchtower pamphlet
That I wadded-up into a ball and I kicked it around the room
Until I kicked that half-smile and  Love and hope filled brochure all the way out the door

As happy in my anger as I could remember... so nice of them
Just what a recovering optimist needs are  cheerfully miserable Pretenders
Who go out seeking to raise up other people's spirits

I noticed they always  send out this young nerds
Who are unlaid and over  prayed
Surrounded by bright smiling faces
So much hope Joy Faith love and optimism
A place like that would make me as painfully miserably happy
As I could ever hope to be if I allowed myself hope
But here lately so much anger and misery in all the people around
That I no longer feel all alone in the world and that makes me so happy I just about want to **** myself

And get the hell away from me with all your bitter anger and acting ******.....
.... can you not see that I am a freaking recovering optimist?.