Lest locks look silver
Lest lips lose colour
At last I lead off life...
Alas! too late to live,
No loved ones left alive

Mind's a madhouse,
a maze most vile
Merciless Immortals
The gods up high
"Cruel, callous, capricious"
— laments the helpless lamb
Bereft of able body  
Bereft of able mind

The Highest Hive Hireling,
Now a wasted withering wether
While wailing willfully awaited
The howling hellhounds to end it