Fluidic the horizon streams to blurry-eyed dreams of a man in motion
Subtly it shifts to signs of something sweeter, softer, sickening
Where spins the circle round my simple little cigar
Somewhere out a league too far to Lucifer blinking, disguised star
Slayer of dreams, we shall see the fire of her face
Chilled a crisp settles upon his grave

Love hath taken him, so the stone read
Wherein his hand lies aghast to touch
So cold indeed the touch of death

So rambles that poor drunkard there, stuck in his alley-chair
Caught in crimson cushions cleft by veins and track-marks pock-marked
Where's he been? Whom would know nor care, to hear the sad man standing there
Pleading so emptily of what he dreams not wants nor needs
Too proud to beg yet empty there with no coin in purse and soul stripped bare
Whom would listen to him there? Caught in misery ensnared
Awaiting death just as a number, living in the world asunder
Without mother without brother without father without lover
Wherein there might his soul wander to find home as though it was there?

Did it all just end for this,
Let me just have one last kiss.

One last kiss to kill this thought, my self-proclamation of distraught
That brings me down to this sad state wherein we drunks must conversate
Seeping tears from stringed laughs wrenched from sneers slathered over
Empty lay the fashioned pot till cracks the cask again

Empty lay the battered thought of loving till the end.