Watch rot what once was living
When its thread of life is first cut
It is without blemishes
When its thread of life is first cut
It is without blemishes
Life itself has sustained a connection between all functions
Then death blight creeps slowly over it
Like a plague which vanquishes all in its way
Soon the matter will be completely
Enveloped in a dismal grey
Brown and black: Its odour will abhor
Most unsightly with none of the vigour
That once made it proud
From the day a child is born it must live
Day to day with its afflictions
Until a certain age that child will smile
Then one day it realises everyone is despiteful
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