The macadam, a path broad and thorny,
Macerate skins worn and damn,
Through cloudless clime where fierce and corny,
They rise wearing somber pasty face,
...
A plebeian pleated tattered garment of whirl,
Dusky, rusty, embodiment of rage,
Lingering on indigo witty night,
Mourned by carcase of lingering cave,
...
As these night climbs over the heels of our affection,
please tell me that my dreams will be devoid your smiling face,
O lass of mogul esteem,
Make not of my heart your flirtatious ground,
...
Your tongue o lass; full of lies
The sky toni't with many eyes
That which squint, an eye of mine
A tale to tell and draw a line
...
Mr. Bushman,
The king of jungle venture,
With wings of hope and dangling gesture
Slain'er of dreams
...
The remains of the sky a-float
That which untrodden under earth engulf
A lurch of hope at least at call beckon
To this day rise on comfy facade of the sun
...
The world so caved
In time so caved
Down in trivia perpetuation
As though the heart is a rusty place for the nostril pant
...
Even the precious emerald and ruby is but a penny,
To purchase this one night on lasting grace,
Thorns and needles, upon this rocky ground heaps,
Off home near home,
...