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- who bears witness now...  rising up from the mud with his long hair twined like the roots of a dark dead tree.

"I could give you knowledge..."  he once said to me, with a dry bone rattle shaking his holyness.
"But would you be willing to bite?"

And the gleam of the moon off the blade.

"After knowledge comes the Fall."

Nixon wired up inside a fortress - the White House echoing with evil ghosts walking the long empty corridors - the stale box rooms where so many men have itched beneath their collars. Pacing in stale box rooms across America, across the time-zones - from freight trains to the Watergate hotel.
Nixon wired up and his weary mutter, "The President can't fall..."
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