I say to you, Life flitters from the clasps of snoozy men Who wish to feel comfort alone And clings to they who feel in their bones The slow decay to an inevitable end.
I tell you, Those who invite the sweet drips of the heart As well as its sour, Live for days in the senseless manβs hour.
For though these heartfuls hold a burden While fancying pleasure, free of strife, They ask their hearts to pump them alive Knowing full well the pangs of sorrow May course in their veins by noon tomorrow.