This is a rubbish of human rind,
With a photograph clutched in the half
Of a hand in the world love underlined.
This is a girl who died in her mind,
With a warm fix glue and a king called call
All the gadgets burned and the gangsters died.
This is a death in cage and blind
With an if in its soul and a hole in its life,
Where the young bell tolled and the old one died.
This is a jog of young, young kind
With one right hand and one black eye
And the eyes of his eyes are as lost as you’ll find.

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