How horrid is this love I have for me
and why am I more important than you
When I try to find this me that I see
the phantom flees far off into the blue

How horrid is this love for my body
steeped in sad suffering throughout my life
We humans all pretend to be godly
licking delights from the edge of a knife

How horrid is this love I have for things
that will come and go like dreams in the night
precious possessions of queens and of kings    
who one day will fall from their thrones on high      

Everything shifting like sand in a dune
or a woman’s mood when swayed by the moon