I'm clinging to life, as best as I can, but I heard the song of sirens, mermaids are pulling me in, some sort of swamp, a terrible place must wait, for a poet, writing such dirty things, taking the world chi, mold it and shape, filter it out, burn it, the black magic, the wolfsbane, again and again, so much laundry, till it’s clean, I want to eat off it, slip in easily, and soak it in, I want to make jokes, and enjoy the life I'm living, but for an old demon, I could be asking for too much, the sky is blue, settle for the night, the world, the setting, a jungle, but such a nice place to live in, live for as long as I can, but I can’t stop myself from cursing, knife at my throat, an open wound, when hell’s gates open, it will suck me in, my soul, an offering to art, everything, alas, so far away, I doubt I'll ever make it...

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