Pulling fast at me the endless grin
The lover runs from deep within
Tomorrow dies with tonight’s sin
Yesterday whithered with the sacred fin
An aging man that cried before
Grabs his bat and settles the score
Never tried to sacrifice more
Always dread and painfully sore
Left for the vultures
That enjoy malady of sculptures
The dead and beaten tenures
Release a cry from moldy dentures
When at last the sin does remain
Gathered round in unearthed vain
Lay before the many slain
Walk; today remain plain