I dare not to take a breath of the life which I can,
I cannot drink of the wine of virtue for I am common Man,
and but all about my form is twisted and decayed,
my body like its soul and passion long forgotten and betrayed,
my lungs have passed away to places long forgotten,
useless as the air they carried was ill- begotten,
I would draw strength upon from the well of life,
But cruel emotion has flooded it with sand and strife,
My fingers thousands yet not one can strike a key,
And my eyes as well Hell’s are blinded and cannot see,
If Heaven does carry in itself white a shroud,
It shrieks a flock of ravens tumultuous and loud,
Beneath each year stained tooth as air does pass,
Its distinct flavor takes a solid mass,
And with lungs gone, eyes blind, fingers cramped, and in the mouth a broken laugh,
I stay affixed to instrument on Mankind’s behalf.