I'm writing this bit of nonsense
because I'm out of my sense.
The things that men do give shudders
I'm a fool, my head is off my shoulders
that used to carry it high
before it was severed with a sigh.
Yes, a sigh from the tired bossom
of a man whose life has plunged to the bottom
of that scale we use to meausre
much and everything about pleasure.

I feel empty, my soul floats
and I continue to gloat like goats.
Take my soul away and give it to the dogs.
It's only fit for dogs' meal.
I'm broken down and forsaken.
Give the dogs and let them eat it
It feels dirty and tattered
Like an old flag hanging from an ant eaten post.
Come, the wind and carry it with you
To the end of the world and time.

Come, undertakers, come!
With your shovels and picks, come!
Show this wretched thing away from my body
Take it to the graveyard and bury it.
Throw dust over it.
Don't even give it any chance.
Give it to the ants of the earth
Let them chew through it,
Let them make anthills with it.
But in my body, I say no more.