Of certain I do cry

For the tacid wealth of the unknown

For the death of the forgone

The principals of loves, admirations

Aand lofty thoughts of no religion,

Break your bread amongst the great unwashed

Around souls who have lost

Where misery rests her head before embes of life beyond come and say again

I was once whole and pure

And could now never think to endure rife phrases spoken from deaf ears draw.