What is that I see, the haze past the midnight hour,
Senseless and fogged, of hoodlums near and far;
Walk this hour, in the demureness of my immodesty,
Drenched in pity, to the days a mere travesty;
The clink of souls, when I merge with the spirits without,
The parched conscience, soothed by the proliferating drought;
Lost and forgotten, unable to tread the meanders of the day,
Doused and extinguished, the cradle where my nights lay;
Dragging the sounds, were they the songs I left behind,
Swaying to the nothing, were they the beauties I would never find;
A forsaken path, I cannot keep my eyes on,
A dwindling will, there might never be another dawn;
Count my steps, they never fall where I intend,
What power is you, to whom my vigor shan’t pretend;
What way is it, how you imbibe in me the catalepsy,
What way is it, how still there remains strength in my palsy;
Inebriated tonight, there is no other lay I can sing,
Flowing in veins, you’re the poison to which my titters swing;
For the next day, I do not care for the onerous gripe,
Before that dawn, let me wallow in this intoxicating tripe…….
