I trade in no lyrics
My lot is hysterics
The rest is blank, or at the most, one or two burnt-out wicks.

I thought a part of me
Would here for ever be
From putrefaction and decay I thought my flesh was free.

I thought my supple limbs
Would vanquish mortal whims
I thought my perception was such that neither dulls nor dims.
I thought I’d have no need to overwork my pseudonyms!

But I abruptly find
That I am ill-designed
To face this nameless, faceless, shameless, feckless daily grind.

Ah me ah would that I
Were like that other guy
Who loves to dredge the sewers and to live in them and die.
I trade in no lyrics.