In the dark sits a man
A nervous man being nervous
No peace from thoughts
Oh mind, please lay to rest
Hour after hour
Staring at the same corner
Mouth dry, hands trembling
A man alone in his (farmer's) cabin
Like a snake in the corner
There's a bottle that's not been drunk
The glossy side of snake venom liquid
Alluring dully
A twistable cork in it's mouth
Waiting for a wrist movement
That would kick the disease out of the man
That would end the trembling
At last the nerves of a sufferer break
The man rises from his bench
Rushes to the corner, grabs the bottle
Swishes open the cork
Arm bends, mouth opens
A bottom rises towards the ceiling
This is how you make a halterneck manouver
of the snake in the corner of the cabin