I heave in unrest and despair
At the substance unknown in the air
With both hope and rage unbridled
With both fear and woe I’m stifled
What little have I to offer
In light of the grandest other
When my petty endeavor is
Scant more than a fleeting wisp
In the wind that wracks my limbs?
A tree quite rotten, untrimmed
The very essence of my work
Pales in the view of the fork
In the road I have traveled
To reach this lightless hovel
What do I have to show
For the mind’s dimming glow?
All these years of toil
All but for my plans to foil
The gleam in my eye is spent
The spine of my tower, bent
In disdainful throes of absurdity
For the sake of this monstrosity
Rend my mind from my useless body
And leave me a sculpture bloody
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