My soul weary inside her rugs of flesh Wrapping my decaying bones, Dry of their marrow, drained, With a fading taste, Blurry eyes, a faint scent, Silent to the surrounding,
The forgotten tune of a true sparrow Where wishes linger in memories Of how it used to be, But hungry for the apple of youth, Watching a love that drifted away And the moving arms of a wall clock, Before I rest in an eternal sleep