Addicts of introspection
Inmates of inner prisons
Drawn and quartered
Between body and soul

Eyeballing time and eternity
Making burglar tools
Out of your brief exultations
To pick the lock of their mystery

Scribblers of briefs and writs
Against a dissembling God
Mad dogs of mystic love
On your way to the pound

Fellow sufferers, wretches like me
And you pretty ladies too
Each nailed to their own cross
Let’s get some sleep if we can.