We can not live and we can die.
So we cannot live and we cannot die.
A trifle of tragedy bowls me over, A tinge of terror holds me over
With bated breath the cold air of death we breathe, as soon as we might ho’ we heave, what a tangled web we weave, we liars and schemers and doubters and such, longingly vying return to the hutch, we live without living and die each day, writhing in ecstasy, mining the pain, of the ones came before us and dawned the day, from ash and dust and blood and clay
Oh welcome a new one, a sufferer to be, a compatriot of fate in death we see, what a beautiful hope to be dashed and torn with moments of love then hate then highness then scorn. The fates of the young, the fists of almighty, Democratic in death, a trick so tidy.
Here to dance on stage and on time, to sing a sweet tune to write the rhyme. Brief and sudden we come just to fall, but dance a good dance for the one who will call. Make pleasure and pain all the same to the viewer, and bare your breast, be it green or pewter.
Then fast to the grave unwilling soul, into dark again, and into the warm, rapturous death more blissful than this, we bid you goodbye with a parting kiss.