Pierce not my skin,
Thou lancet of horror,
Which is terribly akin
To the blade of terror;

Touch nay me at all,
You dark being;
Mind, be not on call
At the bay of loony bin;

Mortality's debt is
Paid by death's acquisiton--
It's the end of business,
The final liquidation;

The assets of sanctity
Offset and save as well
Many a toxic liability
Of the soul from hell;

Weak, weary and bored
By unbroken quietus fear.
Life is unassured
By a doctor's gear.