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.