My worn-off flesh, A withered leaf of autumn. A prey of passions - torpid, burning, rotten, Desire unveiled - foraying, reckless, lusty, It's full of dust, It's dusty.
My worn-off mind, A hall of eerie visions. A game of dice, a flow of blight decisions, A lifeless house, a crooked oldster choky, It's full of smoke, It's smoky.
My worn-off soul, A road of winter sorrows. A straying bird in world of no tomorrows, A crying, insane hope, a final folly, It's full of holes, It's holy.